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bitchlessdino · 1 year

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Sweet Darling (m)

Pairing: tinkerbell's son!chan x fem!reader x Hook's son!wonwoo

Genre: smut

Word count: 6.6k

tags: daugther of wendy!reader, established relationship, yearning, poly, wonchan doing what bros do, suggestive mlm content, cunnilingus, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, dirty talk, Silk restraints, praise kink , spitting, cum eating, cumswapping, unprotected sex, double penetration.

Summary: "Trouble in paradise with little Darling?" Chan was really unsure taking the advice from a child of Hook, but as a man in love, Chan knew the heavier the risks, the higher the reward.

author note : I have a bagillion requests to get to but here comes more self-indulgent fics! thank you @wonwussy and @multi-kpop-fanfics (happy birthday my pretty darling 💗) for beta reading and below are some of my fave notes of theirs :)))))))))))

"NOT WONWOO JUST SHOWING UP" "Wonwoo is Chan’s biggest supporter" - SJ "chan was brave I would have cum on the spot" "wonwoo pirate whore confirmed" -zeta

Tagging: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han

Chan has been the happiest he's ever been in a long time. As a child of one of the legendary fairies of the century, Chan had a lot to live up to. His mother has worked hard to prepare him for their line of work and she’d be damned to know she poured her blood sweat and tears into him getting into a good university to find out he was dating the daughter of Wendy Darling of all people.

Chan’s mother could never stand that so called ‘wretched girl’–always sticking her nose in places she shouldn’t have been–and it’d be an extra hot day in hell if Chan was ever caught fraternizing with such the likes.

That’s why he had kept it such a secret. Although Chan loves and respects his mother, the moment he laid his eyes on Darling kin, he knew it was over. It was a forbidden affair that may have initially swayed his decision-making in pursuing you, but over time, he had truly fallen for you, calling the first time he saw you ‘love at first sight.’

You stunned everyone with your effortless beauty and grace and eventually, they began to learn more about your kind heart and demure demeanor. It was inevitable that everyone became enamored by you, including Chan.

Being able to take you to the formal was a dream come true. What surprised him the most was that you seemed just as infatuated with him and that it wasn’t just a pity date or a yes disguised as something else, you actually enjoyed his company. But it wasn't enough that you liked him. He wanted you to be irrevocably taken by him.

He had to occupy your every day, your every thought, your every breath. You had to be obsessed with the fact that there is no other person in the world for you. At least not like Chan. No one was like Chan. Just as there was no one like you. For you, you deserved something special.

"Wonwoo, you're a heathen. How do you bring excitement to the…you know?”

The young pirate raised a full brow, eye twitching back at the pestering fairy who had just insulted him like nothing. “No l don't know. What?”

“You know. The pleasure.”

Despite their families opposing histories, Chan and Wonwoo fairly got along. They were acquaintances at most and were typically surrounded the mutual friends, today was different seeing as everyone else was busy with the matters of classes and assignments. Eating with someone was better than eating alone, according to Chan, and it seems Wonwoo shared the same sentiment as he willingly agreed.

Chan had his annoying moments–Wonwoo found most fairies naturally have those kinds of qualities, just take Chan’s mother as an example–but the blonde lad was entertaining when he wanted to be in a rather whimsically endearing way. Wonwoo normally found those individuals disgustingly nauseating, but it worked on Chan.

Wonwoo grinned knowingly. He leaned over from the picnic bench, a palm to his cheek. With the tree towering over him, shadows caressing his face aesthetically. “What's that?”

Chan let out an exasperated exhale, lightly tugging his bright blond hair. “Sex, Wonwoo! I'm talking about Sex!”

“Why? Trouble in paradise with little Darling?”

Word got around about Chan’s relationship with Wendy Darling’s darling daughter closer to the day of the formal, but that was before the scene the conflict containing the beast’s child, Gaston’s son, and apparently Ariel’s son. Wonwoo could never properly keep up with peer gossip as it was usually blown out of proportion (most of the time that it, this cup of tea was rather scorching).

Chan scowled at the accusation. “Of course not!” He twiddled his fingers, bottom lip jutting out. “l just want to make it more special for her this weekend. Seeing as you have more than enough trolloping in your history to count as a human brothel, l thought it'd be interesting to get your ideas.”

If Wonwoo took offense to Chan’s jab, he didn’t show it, and instead asked, “Your lady like knots?”

“Like ones slathered in garlic sauce?”

“...No. Like rope.”

Chan’s eyes rounded out in concern. “Wouldn't that hurt?”

The young fairy’s expression amused Wonwoo, a chuckle escaping him. “No, not if you do it right. Never mind. Let's start with something easier. How do you kiss?”

Chan broke out in a wide smile reliving your many kisses and his cheeks emitted a tinge of pink. “Well, she kisses lovely. Rather shy. l just make sure she's comfortable.”

“Snore. No wonder you need my help. Come here. I'll show you.”

“Show me?” Chan repeated, leaning his body away with arms crossed into an ‘X’ over his chest. “Why, you must’ve confused me with a harlot such as yourself.”

“Calm down twinkle toes, I’m not here to corrupt you”–although the thought was tempting–“I’m just going to show you the right ways to do things.”

Wonwoo redirected himself now next to Chan, sitting on the same picnic side parallel to him. He told Chan to meet him at eye level, causing the other to sit up straight. Wonwoo took the side of his face, “Now listen carefully.”

A shudder suddenly went down Chan’s spine. “W-where is this really going?”

“You asked for my help,” Wonwoo reminded, grin taunting back at Chan, “don’t be scared.”

Wonwoo’s hand crept on the back of Chan’s neck, rough fingers threading up his blond locks. “You’re gonna want to play with her hair.” Wonwoo let the locks glide between his digits gently, curling at the ends, and Chan could feel micro hairs stand on his arms. “Like that, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Chan croaked.

“Good, now answer looking back at me.”

Chan hadn’t noticed at first, but instead of looking back into Wonwoo’s eyes, he had been actively avoiding. The blonde had himself force his eyes back on his company. “Y–yes.”

“Alright.” Wonwoo tilted the angle of Chan’s face, utilizing his thumb, and began leaning closer, his breath tickling the blonde’s cheek. Chan visibly swallowed, blinking back in quiet anticipation. Wonwoo's eyelids drop gently, and his lips–startlingly plump and pink–began to part. “Now when you’re this close, you give her the chance to breathe. Let her learn patience. Tease that patience. Let it fester.”

“Yeah, s-sure.” Chan responded, his heart building up until it was hitting a million beats a minute, at least it felt that way.

“You only get closer from there,” Wonwoo added. He inched closer and closer, lips only mere atoms away, and Chan can’t help but shoot his eyes up in alarm. But Wonwoo just kept talking, soothing and deep, alluring even to Chan. “You can feel how excited she is from here, her heart probably erratic from the distance.”

Chan developed a deeper red on his cheeks, relating all too well to that statement, but of course not the exciting part. That was reserved for you. Yet, his mind ran through a thousand different questions, one of them being why he wasn’t entirely repulsed by this. “Finally at the right time, your lips meet. It's warm, his comforting, and you take advantage of that pressure until it's hungry, gritty, starving.”

Chan sighed without thinking, already accepting his fate. Then Wonwoo’s lips stretched over his face in that devilish smile withdrawing, the warmth that once there taking a leap away from Chan. “She won’t know what’s coming to her. You're welcome.”

The oxygen knocked out Chan’s lungs, pulling him back to the present. He jumped up from his seat to collect himself, obviously clearing his throat before picking up his things. "Uh, thanks, ahem, Wonwoo. That helps."

“Anytime, Chan.”

Chan got up to leave soon after, trying to melt the image of Wonwoo from his brain, but he got what he needed. Wonwoo, despite his less-than-orthodox methods, knew what he was talking about. Chan would just have to trust his word.

That same night, Chan had put his friend's advice to the test. He called you over for an at-home date night and he was already itching to see the magic from the lesson. You playfully held the bottom of the hem of his shirt, taking short bursts of kisses Chan lands against your lips.

You hard fell into a natural rhythm with this routine, seeing as he was a little predictable. However, when he ran his fingers through your hair, your giggles melted into moans, skin stinging with every puncturing touch of his digits digging into your scalp and putting at your hair. Your bodies entangle with one another and naturally fell against the firm surface of his mattress, hips pressing into one another until your kisses fell more languid and deep.

“Chan,” you whispered, getting quite comfortable with this new side of him, "Well, that was rather different."

"Do you like that,” he asked softly, eyes still rounded like a puppy dog claiming his treat.

"Very much yes," you reeled him in closer, "What else can you do ?"

Chan thinks of an answer but fell flat. His mind just went completely blank from your question and now the arousal he once felt died along with his movement. He stuttered with his words, ashamed by his inability to respond and his uncertainty take the next steps, and he’s already pulling apart from you. Performance anxiety. It gets to everyone at some point eventually. "I'm sorry."

You sat up next to him, your brows dipped in concern. Your hand glided over his back, stroking in order to soothe his nerves. "What's wrong? Why are you apologizing?"

"I just wanted it to be perfect." He admitted.

He’s had his modest share of intimate partners but none were like you, who he was impossibly infatuated with.

"The first time isn't always is. We knew that."

"But 'ours' should be. I even asked the pirate for help.” He pulled at the tufts of his blonde, shutting his eyes tight in frustration.

Your eyes shot open, "You asked Wonwoo for help? What good would he do?"

"He just knows these kinds of things better than I do." Chan sighed.

"Say that again, I need that as my ringtone." Wonwoo, out of thin air, appears before you both, smickering at the painfully awkward sight leaning up against the door frame of Chan’s bedroom. "There really is trouble in paradise."

Cham jumped up from the bed, shocked at his appearance. "How did you get in here?"

"Pixie dust,” Wonwoo answered sarcastically before pointing his thumb back into the living room, "Your door was unlocked. Everyone could hear your–well lack of–sex life."

Chan fell back into bed, embarrassed beyond repair. "Kill me now."

"That won't be necessary," Wonwoo reassured, relieving himself of his burly coat as it dropped to the ground. “I said I’d help.”

Chan huffed, sneering back at the pirate, “I see what this is. I come to you with advice on being a better lover and you sabotage me by ‘pillaging’ and ‘plundering’ my beloved.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, “I don’t ‘pillage’ or ‘plunder’ people. Even if I did, your Darling wouldn’t be one of them. I am an honest pirate.”

“An ‘honest pirate’ frankly sounds like an oxymoron.” Chan rebutted.

Wonwoo was getting annoyed by Chan’s accusation but every damn nerve in him told him to stay against his better judgment. He crossed his arms, looking back at Chan sternly, “Look, you can argue with me all day, but every second you argue, is a second longer your little girlfriend doesn’t get to cum, so be my guest, insect.”

Chan scoffed, hands on hips. Offended didn’t even begin to start describing how Wonwoo made him feel. “Fine. Let’s see how you do it then!”

“Chan!” You interrupted, cheeks hot from the lingering embarrassment of knowing you and your boyfriend had gotten caught in the midst of your activities. Wonwoo, the cheekiest pirate that everyone on campus knew, just so happened to know the intimate details of it before stumbling upon it in real-time, and now seconds away from being involved due to your boyfriend’s reflex to prove someone wrong.

Chan’s anger dissipated upon hearing your voice, immediately coming to your side. “I’m sorry, my love. That just came out. Of course, nothing will happen. Not without your permission.”

Your eyes shift from your boyfriend to the intruder, who pirated all over your intimate moment. You should’ve been mad you were interrupted, you should’ve been mad that Chan brought up your private details with someone on the outside, but all you couldn’t help but feel was intrigued. The fact that Chan was fine with another man joining was surprising, to say the least, but you’d be lying if you had thought it was a rather appealing image that sent arousal between your legs.

You clenched your thighs together, comparing Chan’s soft gaze with Wonwoo’s cocky one, eventually nodding your head in bashful interest. “It’s new, and rather different than what I’m used to, but If it’s something you’re willing to try, I am too.”

Chan smiled gratefully, pressing a kiss to your lips, before turning back to Wonwoo with a slight scowl. “Okay, what did you have in mind, pirate?”

Wonwoo grinned, proceeding to walk closer to the couple before joining them at the corner of the bed, dressed down in a simple black shirt and black ripped jeans. “Baby steps, what I’ve already taught you at lunch today.”

“He taught you something?” You questioned in bemusement.

Chan tried filtering through the blush on his cheeks but failed. “It’s not what you think, he just…gave me some direction.”

“Since I’ve shown Chan what to do,” Wonwoo’s hands came up to rest on your shoulder, burning hot against you, “It’s time I show you what to do, little Darling.”

You’ve always had a hate/love relationship with the endearment ‘Darling.’ Since it was your family name, it came with the repercussions that everyone thought it’d be okay to refer to you as such instead of your given name, but hearing how it rolled off Wonwoo’s tongue sounded like pure sex.

“You touch her in a way she resists, I’ll kill you, Jones.” Chan threatened.

“Relax, I won’t. Milady, do you consent to me kissing you?”

You nodded, watching as he inched closer to meet you at eye level. “As I said with Chan, It’s all about the teasing, the build-up for the kiss.”

Chan watched over patiently as Wonwoo did the same steps he learned today: the touching of the hair, the gradual closing of each other’s body, his breath visibly lingering close enough to your lips that you could make out the spearmint gum he’s been chewing. Wonwoo smiled to see how much more cooperative you were compared to Chan, who was already fuming at the sight.

“You caught up now, Miss Y/n?”

“I-I think so.”

“Good. Now I’ll show you what I haven't shown Chan, but you’ll be teaching him soon after, alright?”

You quietly nodded. Soon, Wonwoo met your lips for the first time, tasting, and reveling in sweetness that was supposed to be Chan’s and only Chan’s. Anger fueled the young fairy, his knuckles turning white from balling his hand in fists, but it soon melted seeing your face.

Wonwoo kissed differently from Chan, not in a way that was better or worse, but it opened your body to a new possibility you haven’t explored yet. The pirate’s hand traveled from your face to your side, pulling you by the hip towards him, in turn releasing a yelp down his throat. You made no protest, seeing as the action only enhanced the current situation, and you feel your hands move on him just as naturally, playing at the buttons of his shirt.

His tongue caressed your lips for entry and you gave access, having now your saliva mixing in an obscenely decadent way. You moaned moving closer to him, your knees now digging into the mattress in the process, lost in heat. Your body arched into his, feeling the firm definition beneath his clothes. It felt so different and wrong and addictive.

“My love,” Chan breathed out. The complex emotions running through him made the fairy’s possessive nature conflict with the arousal stemming from such an erotic scene unfolding. All that was clear was that his pants were tightening at the crotch.

You immediately pulled away from Wonwoo at the sound of Chan's soft timbre, a hand to your mouth, shocked by your own actions. “Have I–oh, dear.”

Chan shook his head, “Not like that, Y/n, I’ve just realized now how beautiful you look needy and desperate. It’s…exhilarating.”

You covered your face, hiding behind his deliciously sinful words, typing to ignore the damp tension you tried so hard to clench away. Wonwoo simply chuckles, “She’s a natural.” He pulled your hands away from your face, gentle encouragement in his surprisingly kind eyes. Kind for a pirate anyway. “Time for you to show, Chan. Do exactly as I’ve taught you, and he will follow. He’s a good student too.”

You quickly returned to Chan, need flooding every orifice of your body before catching him in a liplock. You made use of your lesson, playing with Chan's hair, trailing your hands over Chan’s body, and letting your lips follow the pace of your heart, practically devouring the plush cushion of Chan’s lips. Chan mimicked your movement to a tee, catching up at sonic speed, and you could feel his pulse quicken beneath the palm of your hand.

“That’s it,” Wonwoo led, “Chan, don’t be shy about doing things out of the box too, she wants you just as much as you want her.”

Being a high-achieving student, Chan pulled you in his lap, straddling him, where you were grinding against him like a pair of horny teenagers. His hands found home on your chest, cupping the fullness of your breasts through your clothes. An obscene moan followed soon after.

“Atta-boy.”

Chan smiled at Wonwoo’s sincere rally before continuing to work into your liplock, that was hardly working at all seeing how seamlessly your bodies meshed like one. Slowly, articles of clothing began coming apart from your bodies, skin exposing without a second thought until you were only left in your underwear. You could practically feel yourself dripping between your legs, and at this point, you would be actively worried about it getting on Chan’s thighs, but you were too lust blind that the thought never reached your brain.

Chan’s newly acclimated fascination with your breasts had him appreciating them to their entirety, feeling how the peaks hardened under his touch and tasted on his tongue. His only regret was that he didn’t learn it so much sooner. Then came your body, soft and lively under his fingertips. He could feel every goosebump, every curve, every delicate feature of your body, unable to believe you’d given yourself to him like this. Balls of flesh in his hand, he held you like a man gone mad, crotch thrusting into you as if his erection was seconds away from busting right out from his pants.

Meanwhile, your hands glided over Chan’s sculpted muscles, internally squealing at their firmness while moisture flooded your core. For a fairy, everyone expected them to be dainty and delicate, much due to the attention they placed on their magic rather than physical labor, but beneath Chan’s pristine exterior, he was rugged.

The valleys of his abdomen were deep, making your hands slide through like butter, and his arms–both large and built to provide safety–embraced you with blistering heat. Your mouth water at the simple thought of them pinning you against a flat surface, your feet far from touching the ground. God, his body was made for worship to the level of a deity and you would take all of eternity to do it. “Mmh, Chan…”

His hand in your hair stroked it sweetly, but his teeth pulled at your bottom lip’s resistance, “All for you, my love. Tear me away, lash at me, bring me in ruin. I am at your beck and call.”

“So glad you mentioned that, Chan,” Wonwoo obnoxiously interrupted, “because you’re going to do something for Y/n that I’m sure you’ll both very much enjoy.”

Wonwoo directed you to sit up against the bed frame while he handed something off to Chan, whispering in his ear. Chan accepted it before making his way to you, parting your legs with the nudge of his knee. His smile is unwavering as he reached down for your hands, thumbing over the back of them. Abruptly, he took them both above your head, having you stare back at him anxiously. Utilizing what Wonwoo gave him personally, a single silk scarf, Chan tied you down at your wrists, looping them through on the nook of the bedframe to ensure escape wasn’t an option.

“He said they’d be better than rope.” Chan blushed. “At least, I won’t have to worry about you getting hurt.”

“What are you going to do to me, Chan?” You asked slightly afraid, but your fear is overwhelmed by the presence of thrill.

Still smiling, he doesn’t answer and instead lowers his body, hands smoothing over your legs. Wonwoo, who previously had just been watching aside from your kiss, sat behind Chan, watching the tremble of your legs and you couldn’t help but feel naked under his gaze. Chan's kisses feathered over your inner thighs, teeth nipping at you during his slow entry, and his arms came up beneath you to tug you against his lips.

“Oh…” You let out, feeling his mouth move against your molten core.

“You’re so wet for me, my love, mmh…”

Chan’s tender love has yet to be translated into sexual initiation until this very moment and, damn, it was the most amazing thing you’ve ever experienced. His whispers tickled your skin before it was captured by his mouth. Teeth colliding with your folds, the light strokes of his tongue, you can feel how he’s careful, appreciating every fold, making sweet sweet love your messy core. Then, Chan pressed deeper, exploring your warmth, ravaging you, and cushioning his cheeks with your thighs. He groaned into his feast, sending vibrations up your body.

Your eyes fluttered out of bliss, whining about your inability to touch his soft hair or pet his handsome face, instead, you could gaze back at him, crying out his name until your throat would give out.

“Isn’t he pretty,” Wonwoo commented, his hand ran through Chan's thick locks, taunting you with his free hands, and a growl ran low in your throat. “He’s just eating you right up. Tongue buried in your pussy…lips wet with your sweet syrup…he’s obsessed with you little Darling.”

You slightly glared back at Wonwoo, loathing the accuracy of his words, but the distraction Chan is causing made it difficult to manage. Your legs wrung on either side of your boyfriend’s head, chest alleviating the harsh breaths escaping your lungs and to your demise, and that only amused Wonwoo more.

“Chan, you can do better than that,” the pirate encouraged, now curling his hair between his fingers, “Let me help.”

Wonwoo’s fingers threaded through Chan’s bedhead now rougher, mercilessly, he pressed Chan’s face deeper into your warmth, your collective moans bouncing off the walls. Your fingers curled in anguish, the heat of Chan’s tongue so far inside of you made you madder than the local hatter. Wonwoo was more than satisfied by both of your responses and rewarded your boyfriend with a light stroke to his head, ebbing out the cute whines from the blonde.

“Don’t forget to look up, Chan.” Wonwoo pulled Chan’s head slightly back, lips still on you, now watching you with a mindless glow. Blown-out eyes stared back at you in hunger, the image of your malleable state burning into the very depth of his soul. “Take a good look at that face. Listen to her moans. Isn’t she the most darling of Darlings? Chan, you lucky dog.”

“I am lucky,” Chan mumbled, before running tired stripes up your slit, mesmerized by the slow drop of your swollen upper lips, drool falling out of the corner. Rounding out his mouth, suctioned to your entrance, and in doing so you only get louder, whinier, needier. “My love tastes so sweet in my mouth.”

Chan was too good of a listener and Wonwoo took full advantage. Per the pirate's instructions, Chan’s lips wrapped around your clit, the presence of his fingers claiming the spot of his tongue. They pushed in and out of you addictively, following the clench of your sopping cunt, and gushing out your scent that later drips down his forearm. How wet it was, how animalistic it looked, the melody of your voices joined together in sinful harmony brought shivers to Wonwoo’s spine. He couldn’t be more proud. It was like he was watching Chan’s congratulatory ceremony, the diploma being you coming apart before both the men’s eyes.

“I’m—Mmh—gonna cum…Chan please…”

“You heard her, Chan, make her dirty little cunt cum in your mouth…that’s it…just like that,” Wonwoo returns his attention to you, “Do it, little darling, defile his pretty little mouth. Make it that it's only your cum he tastes for weeks.”

The vulgar language pushed you to the edge, bucking your lips until you vibrate like a toy against Chan. Your voice resonates throughout the room. This put no stop to Chan letting it linger, fingers ramming inside you in slick friction as you gush in his mouth like candy. All the blonde does is chuckles, collecting your nectar in his mouth.

“Good boy, Chan,” Wonwoo complimented, “Now spit it in her mouth.”

Chan was quick on his feet, letting sweetness fall above from his lips into your mouth in crystal clear ribbons in a rough spat. He held a smile so wide and manic on his face, he was unrecognizable. You took every bit of it it, savoring you on his lips and tongue before Wonwoo commanded, “Again” and Chan’s back on your pussy for seconds.

You were already recovering from orgasm milliseconds before now you were going to take another. Chan got less timid over time, even spitting his findings back into you. His intoxicating chuckles played in your ears, flushing your skin, and if he ate you out like this every day of every hour, you would not complain.

Wonwoo, the director and mere spectator didn’t let himself get too involved, only palming his erection while he enjoyed the show. His hand would occasionally come back against Chan’s hair, leading him in the right direction, but when your third—oh was ít fourth—orgasm unfolded, he decided it was enough of an appetizer.

“Chan, be a gentleman and fuck her pretty cunt. I can tell she’s just dying for it.”

Chan got up to reconnect lips with you, “That true?” He asked, your climax coating your lips, “You want me to fuck your pretty, sopping pussy, love?”

You let out a guttural moan, tension building in your lower abdomen, “Mmh, yes, please. I need your cock in me…”

Wonwoo hummed a song of glee. “Oh, Little Darling’s got a mouth, huh? Let’s see how you can take him.”

They position you on your back, tits falling gracefully in the center of your chest as Chan’s slid his raw length up your wet slit. You whimpered seeing his size, desperate to have him inside you. When he gives you that pleasure, your head is thrown back into the pillow, the stretch of his cock throwing you for a loop. “Fuck, Chan…”

“You feel…fuck…you feel so…fuck…”

Chan fucked like how he talked, sweet and tender. Your thrill traveled up your entire body despite the many times you’ve finished, clenching around him with your legs joined to his hips. His pace gradually accelerated the moment his voice gravelly, biting his lips down, seeing pleasure contort your beautiful face into something even more devastatingly arousing. His cock was a perfect fit, fucking you like you were made for him and he almost forgets that Wonwoo is still here, watching so patiently. Almost.

“Wonwoo.”

At the call of his name, the pirate turned to Chan curiously, hand still over his pants. “Yes, pet?”

“I want your mouth on her pussy, now.”

“Chan,” Wonwoo exclaimed, wildly impressed.

“Do it before I change my mind, heathen.”

Wonwoo pulled himself up and into action. His hands pull his shirt over his head to avoid a mess, giving you a glimpse of the athleticism the pirate had etched into his also very beautiful, stunning body before he faced your groin, lips centimeters away from your round, glossy bud. “Miss Y/n.”

“Wonwoo,” You timidly greeted him between pants.

“I’m going to enjoy this, just as much as you’ll enjoy cumming a fifth time today.”

His long tongue slithers like a snake, dangling it closer to cock filled core before latching against your soft clit. Your eyes momentarily rolled to the back of your head before landing it back on Wonwoo, seeing the taut expression of a man that's off his leash. Kitten licks would simply not do in this case.

His hands held you still, eyelids half open to watch you practically melt upon him, “Perfect little clit…on a perfect little pussy…on a perfectly Darling girl.”

The pure tension in your body had hit you harder than expected. It threw your back to a perfect arch, balancing between a cock as perfect as Chan's thrusting inside you, while Wonwoo sucked on you like a lolly. The pirate’s hands traveled up your body, memorizing the shape of your warm tits. His tongue drew shapes against you, circling and spreading your moisture, while at the same time, you found him rolling your hard nipples between the pads of his fingers.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

“Taking his cock so well, little Darling,” Wonwoo complimented in a husky voice, “Isn’t she, Chan?”

“She’s…taking me…perfectly,” Chan agreed in a breathless voice.

“You want him to fill you with his cum.” Wonwoo bit his lip, using one hand to squeeze your clit, swelling it up until you're practically screaming. “Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes watered, hot from the heat of–well everything–and only nodded before weakly yelping out a curt, “Yes.”

Chan could just feel how you pulse around him, knowing you weren’t lying. His eyes fell shut, ramming in you faster, harder, the slapping of your skin loud and clear of his efforts, he lets out a harsh groan, telling himself, he can take just a little more.

“Take it,” Wonwoo commanded, “Cum all over his cock before he decides to cum in you. It’s the least you can do.”

The pirate read Chan’s mind like an automated teleprompter, with a newfound gratitude for his friend.

“…Take my cum, Y/n,” Chan repeated with stolen breath, “take all of it.”

To no one’s surprise, their words led you to take another fat, harsh orgasm, bucking your hips. Chan followed suit. His cum came in waves with loud raspy groans, clutching your thighs until he coated you inside creamy white. His final thrust came sensationally deep, filling you to the brim. Full was an understatement.

A mixture of your climax seeped out from your cunt when Chan pulled out, your pretty pussy now gorgeously adorned with vicious nectar. Wonwoo seized the opportunity in a snap move. His mouth didn’t hesitate to take your sensitive pussy entirely in his mouth, sucking out every bit of cum left inside you, leaving only the sounds of squelching and his groaning at the delectable taste.

“Fuck, Wonwoo,” you couldn’t help but call out and Chan doesn’t even get a second to be mad at another man eating out his girlfriend. Instead, somehow he’s entranced at how quick Wonwoo was to clean up a mess he wasn’t even responsible for.

“Fuck,” Chan echoed, almost just as turned out by seeing Wonwoo eat up the cum as much as Chan was making it, leaving some unanswered questions to float in the charged air.

Once Wonwoo was finished, he crashed into your lips, feeding you the remnants left on his tongue. “A bidding gift.”

You blinked back in surprise, “You’re leaving?”

“I was only supposed to help your sex lives. I wasn't meant to join in, Little Darling.”

“But you’re here anyway.” Wonwoo's eyes flickered to the fairy, the last person he thought would protest. “You might as well finish what you started, pirate.”

“And you wouldn’t mind?” Wonwoo questions.

“As long as it's consensual. Plus…it’s not like your extra leg is going anywhere time soon.”

Wonwoo chortled at Chan’s innuendo, briefly looking down at the erection in his pants, still very angry and stiff, before nodding. “Alright then. Your turn to lead, pet.”

Wonwoo wore a condom in respect for Chan, exposing his size for the first time. Your eyes locked on Wonwoo’s cock like it was forbidden fruit, watching how it curled up to his stomach before he settled closer to you and Chan.

Chan guided you back to him, bruising your lips in a method that was foreign until now. His teeth found your lips in a soft tug and you gasped as he pushed your naked body back on the bed, devouring your lips until he shifted you on top of him. The curve of his wet cock slapped back at your stomach, making you reminisce on how he had just felt inside you.

“So beautiful…You took my cock so well, now you’re gonna take it along with Wonwoo’s. You think your little pussy can fit in all the cock, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, give it to me please…”

He moaned at your desperation, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “Put it in for me then, love.”

You obeyed, finding his length, slathering arousal up and down, before sliding it inside you. The friction is momentarily more manageable, but it doesn’t stop your moans that inevitably fell out. He found the curve of your ass and bounced you on his lap. Your hands, once trapped in silk, were now roaming in his hair, smiling against his lips as you latched on to him.

Wonwoo steadied himself behind you, finding an opening. His hands settled against Chan’s and together they spread you evenly. Your pussy, already preoccupied with Chan’s presence, fluttered at him, like their version of a wink. “So pretty…God, both of you should see how Darling looks so good taking Chan’s pretty cock.

He inched closer, stroking up his length as he aligned it at your entry before easing himself between you and Chan. You dropped your jaw, the stretch of Wonwoo’s presence taking you by pleasant surprise, “Fuck, fuck…”

“So fucking wet.” Wonwoo tested with a single thrust, then another, each followed up by your winces that melted into mellow moans. “Mmh, your cunt feels so much better imagined…You’re taking up like a champion, Little Darling.”

Your forehead kissed Chan’s, hands iron gripped on the bed frame, you savored the pleasurable ache between your legs as their thrusts fucked your insides at their own varying pace. You weren’t too comfortable with using obscenities yourself, but today your vocabulary was comparative to a sailor’s, pouring your heart and soul into every comprehendible word that left your lips, and at that moment, there weren’t many.

Chan kissed your temple, praising you in a lethally soft voice. His hand slid down your back misted in sweat, clutching you harder against him. He rocked into you so hard, he had slipped out, taking only a second to slide it back in you, “So soaked for me,” escaping between his heavy breaths. You screamed chants of a deity that would never come, tears blurring your vision until they fell against your cheeks.

“Mmh, you’re taking us so good, my love…How is it? How’s two cocks fucking you full to the brink of insanity?”

Even Wonwoo was blown away by the fairy’s choice of words, but hey, this wasn’t the first time Chan has surprised him today and hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last. “She probably can’t think being so full, isn’t that right, little darling? Our cocks fucking you stupid yet?”

You only answered in incomprehensive sounds, too preoccupied with the familiar strike of arousal about to hit you as they sped up. Your eyes fully rolled back into your skull and Chan could only see white in them. If he didn’t know better, he’d be worried, but the smile on your face indicated you were just fine. “So cock drunk she can’t even answer. How cute.”

“Let’s put her out of her misery and make her cum again. She surely won’t mind.”

And you didn’t, the carnal visceral sensations of their cocks joined to stretch you open, their mind-numbing rhythm bottoming out of you like heaven, and they together blossomed your hardest orgasm yet. Your muscles contracted, doubling over Chan in aguish, ripping your voice loud enough for both of them to hear. He caresses the back of your head while Wonwoo is buried in you deep by meeting his chest to your back, his groans now audibly down directly in your ear.

Chan caressed your face, “Cum, yes like that, you’re so beautiful…How can someone like you so beautiful exist?”

You sobbed into his shoulder, overwhelmed at all angles but ultimately broke under the tender warmth of his words. God, how could you ever be so lucky.

“Take my cum again for me, my love, and I’ll take care of you long after you’re asleep.”

You nodded, embracing him weakly, and Chan held you dearly along with Wonwoo for the finale. Bursts of white colored you inside-out, and you take every drop until they’re both empty. Your body grew fatigued from what felt like hours together and your mind takes a break, deeply knocked out on Chan’s bed. Chan leaves for a second, coming back with warm towels, friendly handing one off to Wonwoo. “Here.”

The pirate looked at it like a foreign object before accepting, seeing Chan take his own towel and dragged it over your mess of pussy in hopes of cleaning you dry. “Thanks for the assist, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo smiled, copying as he does but with himself, “You’re welcome, I had fun. I hope you did too.”

Chan blushed, turning back to Wonwoo rather hesitantly. “Surprisingly, I did. Hope I can live up to that again for her.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Thanks. I’ll have to do you a favor sometime…in thanks.”

Wonwoo joined his side, smiling rather cheekily, “I can think of a few ways.”

“If it involves Y/n and you alone, forget it.”

“Actually,” Wonwoo’s hand stung on the patch of skin on Chan’s smooth back, a cool draft hitting the young fairy, “it involves both of you. I’d love to do this again, and again. Maybe exclusively?”

“Are you asking to…be a couple with us, Wonwoo?”

The pirate chuckled at Chan’s innocent phrasing before landing a chaste kiss on his cheek, earning a look of shock on the fairy’s face, and getting up, his flaccid cock hanging in the cold air as naturally as if it were caveman times. “Think on it, insect, and if you’ll need me, I’ll be in the shower. A wet towel will certainly not be enough to get me clean.”

Wonwoo trodded off to the restroom across from Chan’s room and he leaves the door wide open. Chan feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of his lungs, pondering the inexplicable words from another man he never imagined he would actually hesitate on and then there’s the sound of running water, following the low groan of Wonwoo reacting to its heat. Chan takes a deep exhale before deciding and it takes a total of two seconds for him to get up, walk through that bathroom door, and closed it behind him.

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fridaypls · 1 month

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AND I'M BACK WITH MORE ANGST AND PAIN.

Purely for the pain; a gif-dump analysis of Gale sacrificing himself to defeat the Absolute in Act 3.

The brave face. That soft smile of affection and sadness as he begins. That tiny nod of goodbye to all of you. The way he vanishes you all as quickly as he can. This is the moment he's been dreading, has been dragged towards relentlessly and it's here. All he can do is face it bravely, so he does.

---

2. The instant anguish and sadness when he's alone. Again. For the last and hardest time. The way he steels himself instantly to do what must be done, physically turning away from the spot you vanished in.

Putting what he could have had behind him to save the world.

To save you.

---

3. Facing the daunting task before him, literally looking up at the challenge ahead of him. For a man who craves companionship on a subatomic level, he's got to face the hardest action and greatest sacrifice he could ever make entirely alone.

---

4. The determined stride.

He knows what he's about to do and he's accepted it. Embraced it, even because he's had a long time to fear this outcome and he knows why he's doing it.

It's not for his goddess, not anymore. It hasn't been for some time.

---

5. A tiny moment of wishful regret and despair, the moment his hands touch what he has to climb and the cold reality of the situation really sinks in.

This is it.

So much beauty, so much wonder in the universe... and his part in that is about to be over.

Gale Dekarios the Ambitious, gone in one last blaze of unwitnessed glory.

---

6. The anguish. The memories. The dying flicker in his eyes of dreams that could have been.

A last goodbye to the happiness he found on the journey, with all of you.

With you.

---

7. Shoving all that hurt and broken hope down inside because he's got a job to do. One last task, one last mission. Knowing his reward is death.

---

8. And climbing anyway, just radiating defiance of self. Wanting to live, choosing to die. Weighing the sacrifice and making it willingly.

---

9. The little foot slip and determined way he keeps going. The sheer scale of what he's facing down, alone and afraid, but doing it anyway.

---

10. Standing up and looking around. Perhaps a little dazed by the height, I know I would be. I got sweaty palms just making the gif.

---

11. Getting his bearings and heading for his goal. No time to marvel at the genuinely incredible sight, only a relentless march towards the end.

---

12. AND HE'S STILL FUNNY. The dialogue happens while he's tiny on the screen, but can we acknowledge he's still objectively witty in the face of his own kamikaze death?

---

We're just gonna spend a little time here.

Look at mingled effort and anguish, that mixed relief and well there's no stopping now on his face. (GODS Y'ALL TALENTED LARIAN)

---

The sadness fading into cold resolution.

---

That last look at the point of the dagger as he brings it towards himself, every instinct fighting to do the exact opposite.

One last hard swallow. Raising the dagger in defiance. Turning his eyes upward, looking up at the target, at the goal. At the reason he's here, now.

He's an ant before a giant. But an ant that's going to win.

---

Winning - defeating the Absolute - at the cost of everything he's ever wanted. Everything that was so close, even that morning when he woke up.

This wasn't how he thought the day would end. Wasn't how he thought his life would end. This was not supposed to be the ending to his story.

There's sadness and hurt and mourning on his face as he steels himself and drives the dagger home. The scream of defiance shifting to one of pain and so much anguish.

---

Pain and anguish being driven off his face momentarily by defiance, mixed with anger this time.

Angry at the Absolute, angry at fate, angry that this is the end...

---

Sadness and pain ripping back control, the tears in his eyes as he squeezes them closed. A silent moment of mourning for everything that could have been, all the possible futures he'd dreamed of for himself winking out.

No more Gale Dekarios or Gale of Waterdeep. No more Tara in his lap, his beloved tower. No more bantering around the campfire while he makes dinner for the party. No more you.

---

The exhausted, despairing relief as the end starts to claim him, as the burning of the orb in his chest starts to spread. We know the orb glowing like this usually means he's in pain... between the dagger and the orb, he's got to be in agony.

But it's almost over.

He has nothing left to do now, all that's left is to wait for it all to be over. It's done. There are just seconds left to him, but the pain makes them feel like eternity.

Last thoughts, last memories. A last image of you flitting through, perhaps a sweet caress or a remembered parting goodbye.

and then...

it's all over

#is this better or worse than Ascended Gale #genuine question #please someone tell me #also i need a hug now #and to go write some nice things for Gale *sniffle*#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale explosion #gale go boom #gale act 3 explosion #gale orb #karsus orb #obligatory Me And My Homies Hate Mystra

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blakeswritingimagines · 6 months

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Dating Maegor The Cruel Would Include:

Dating him, King Maegor Targaryen, the first of his name, is like dating a wildfire. He is passionate about his lovers and the relationships he invests in. His intensity and desire for conquest translate to his love life. You will be swept up in his passion as you share your goals and desires, pushing boundaries of pleasure, passion, and commitment to new heights. You will become his queen or, if you are a bold lover, his mistress.

Dating him would be like dating a ticking time bomb. On the outside, he may seem like the perfect guy; however, underneath, there is a darkness that awaits only one wrong move. One misstep and the floodgates will open, revealing a ruthless, cold, and cruel individual. It is not for the faint of heart to date him, but it is a thrill like no other. It's a risk versus reward situation. He will either end up ruining your life or you'll end up spending your life together. Only the brave need apply.

Dating him is both exciting and dangerous. It's exciting because he is the king, and he has the power to take what he wants. It's dangerous because he is a violent man, and he doesn't tolerate any challenges to his authority. So if you want to date him, you need to be prepared to accept the risks that come with it.

Dating him can also be a difficult task. He is a complex individual with many layers to uncover and dissect. He has a tendency to push people away and keep them at arm's length. Despite his harsh words and intimidating demeanor, however, there is a softer side to his personality that just needs to be coaxed out. He may be cold and distant for the majority of the time but every once in a while, he does let his guard down and show the person he is dating the affection, attention, and love you deserve. It just takes someone special to break through his walls.

Dating him would consist of countless adrenaline-rushing moments that will leave your life constantly hanging in the balance. He is not for the faint of heart and he does not apologize for that. He is a passionate individual, and he is not scared to show it. He loves to live life on the edge and he expects his partner to do the same. If you can't keep up with his pace, then it is time for you to move on. He is not a person who is afraid to speak his mind, and he expects the same from his significant other. It is never boring to date him, one way or another.

Dating him isn't all bad. He may seem cold, but that's just his exterior. Once you break through, you'll find a passionate individual who deeply cares about those closest to him, including you. He also knows how to have fun. He'll take you on spontaneous adventures and surprise dates. Despite his reputation, he is also romantic, and always the gentleman. He'll open doors and pull out your chair for you. But don't take his kindness for weakness; He's a fierce protector of those he loves and that includes you.

Dating him is like playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse. One day he might be kind, caring, and attentive, but the next day, he could be cold, aloof, and distant. It's hard to know which side of him you'll get, and that's part of the fun. It keeps you on your toes and guessing about his true intentions. It can be stressful at times, but it also keeps things exciting. And don't think you can get around him with gifts or sweet words. He'll see right through it.

Oh, jealousy. Jealousy can be a dangerous emotion in relationships. He is a very possessive individual. When it comes to the person he loves, he doesn't like to share your attention with anyone else. If he feels you're getting too close to someone else and he's not the center of your universe, watch out. He will do whatever it takes to protect what's his.

Affection is a tricky thing for him. He can be very affectionate and attentive when he wants to be, but there are just as many times when he can be emotionally distant and cold. As I said before, he's a ticking time bomb. One moment you could be cuddling up together watching a sunset and the next, he could be ready to throw down and fight. Don't let that fool you though, he does have a softer side. If you want his affection, all you gotta do is show him that you're truly one of his.

Marriage is his ultimate goal. He has always wanted to be married and have a partner by his side. When it comes to marriage, he's a very traditional guy. He wants a person who will be by his side, raise his kids, and take care of the home. He believes in the husband as the head of the household, and he expects you to play your role. He knows that's not popular for absolutely everyone, but that's the way he was raised and how he expects a family dynamic to be.

Children are everything to him. As I said before, his ultimate goal in life is to be married and have a family. He wants to have multiple children; and if the gods are kind, he'd like to have all boys. He wants his sons to grow up to be strong and fierce warriors, and his daughters to grow up to be as beautiful and intelligent as their mother. He wants his children to carry on his legacy and to continue the family line.

Well, if you end up dating, you'll quickly learn that he demands complete loyalty. He expects to be the center of your world. You will be expected to devote yourself to him, body and soul. He will give you a purpose in life, and you will fulfill it without question. If you want a life of passion and adventure, then he is the man for you. In return, everything you have could be taken away, leaving you with nothing. But that's half the fun, isn't it?

Dating him would be no ordinary experience. One moment, you could be laughing together and having the time of your lives. The next moment, he could be berating and shaming you as punishment for some misdeed or imagined slight. He's not one to hold back his feelings, whether they be positive or negative. He is known for his sharp tongue and his wit, and he will not hesitate to use them on those closest to him, if necessary. It's like walking on a tightrope; it can be exhilarating, but it's also dangerous.

Dating him is not for everyone. It's going to be a rocky roller-coaster with no guarantee that you'll emerge unscathed. He is unpredictable, he will push your buttons, and he will make you feel both ecstatic highs and excruciating lows, he's going to be controlling and jealous, and he may even scare you. He is not going to be your average boyfriend. He is not going to be Mr. Nice Guy. But, if you're looking for someone who'll keep your life spicy, dating him may be the right choice for you.

If you're looking for a man who is kind and gentle, look elsewhere. If you're seeking an adventurous and exciting relationship filled with adrenaline and drama, then he may be the one for you. Dating him is like playing with a lion; you must be prepared for the consequences. Be warned, dating him requires a strong heart and a brave soul. If you can handle the risk he presents, then you may just have a chance at finding true happiness, but it could ultimately cost you everything.

He has many kinks, such as bondage and other forms of domination/submission. He gets pleasure from seeing his love in bondage or other forms of restriction that show his ownership of you. He enjoys being in control over you and likes seeing you vulnerable and helpless to him.

His favorite kink is dominance and control. He likes to have complete control over his partner and loves to see you being submissive and obedient to everything he says. He may be somewhat rough and rough-housing in his sexual encounters but otherwise can be very gentle with you when you do something for him. He likes to reward compliance and will be very appreciative of it. He may have some sort of sadist tendencies as he will enjoy the pleasure of hurting his partner when you don’t obey him, to keep you under control.

Another kink that he has is the idea of his lover being so dependent on him. This turns him on as he knows he can do whatever he wants and you will come to him begging. He likes the idea of someone belonging to him. This could be tied in with the first kink as he enjoys having complete control over you.

Maegor may have another kink when it comes to punishment and discipline over his lover. He wants to punish you if you do something wrong or don't listen to him. This will make them submissive and do what he wants. He also likes to feel in control of his lover's actions and will always make sure you do what he says.

He also likes a challenge, so he will get into arguments with you and try to make you see things his way, if you give in he will get turned on by this. He also enjoys the power trip from knowing he is the only person you love and trust.

He also likes to experiment with different things to control his lover; for example, he may use different types of rope and restraints to tie you up and keep you from escaping, different toys, blindfolds, etc. He is also a sadist and likes to see his lover in pain and suffering. He might even get turned on knowing he has you tied up and helpless while he can do whatever he wants to you.

He is also turned on by the possessiveness and jealousy he feels over his lover, he wants you to be just his and only his.

#maegor targaryen #maegor x reader #maegor the cruel #maegor targaryen x reader #dating would include

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pangeen · 1 year

Video

How do you feel when you face the unknown? Is it scary? Do you usually step back because it’s too uncomfortable for you when you don’t see the whole path, because you don’t know if it’s gonna be too fast or too deep, or too crazy, if you’ll meet anyone who wants to hurt you?

Or you take a chance to have probably one of the best adventures in your life fully trusting the Universe and allowing it to lead you? It doesn’t mean that you will never get lost or hurt on that path, but you know you’ll definitely find the way out. You acknowledge your inner power and see the deep sense in everything you experience.

The Universe always rewards the brave. So, live your life full power, don’t be afraid of the unknown. Major transformations happen when you manage to calm your mind, leave your fears behind and make a step forward. Look deeper, feel deeper, breathe deeper.

// © Oksana Korda

Music: Ivan Torrent - Passage to Eden (feat. Lara Ausensi)

#space #planets #earth #moon #sun #mars #jupiter #saturn #SolarSystem #galaxy #Galaxies #MilkyWay #universe #nebula #nebulae #4K #8K #reels #aesthetics #explore #follow #discover

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maaarine · 6 months

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Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism (Yanis Varoufakis, 2023)

"What we need, then, is a new story that explains not what we wish would happen but what is actually happening, and that is the story of how rent – the defining economic trait of feudalism – staged its remarkable comeback.

Under feudalism, rent was easy enough to grasp.

Courtesy of some accident of birth, or royal decree, the feudal lord obtained the deeds to a plot of land which empowered him to extract part of the harvest produced by the peasants who had been born and raised on that land.

Under capitalism, grasping the meaning of rent, and distinguishing it from profit, is much harder – a difficulty I witnessed first-hand when as a university teacher I would struggle to help my students spot the difference between the two.

Arithmetically, there is no difference: both rent and profit amount to money left over once costs are paid for.

The difference is subtler, qualitative, almost abstract: profit is vulnerable to market competition, rent is not.

The reason is their different origins.

Rent flows from privileged access to things in fixed supply, like fertile soil or land containing fossil fuels; you cannot produce more of these resources, however much money you might invest in them.

Profit, in contrast, flows into the pockets of entrepreneurial people who have invested in things that would not have otherwise existed – things like Edison’s light bulb or Jobs’s iPhone.

It is this fact – that these commodities were invented and created and so can be invented and created again but better by someone else – that renders profit vulnerable to competition. (…)

Capitalism prevailed when profit overwhelmed rent, a historic triumph coinciding with the transformation of productive work and property rights into commodities to be sold via labour and share markets respectively.

It was not just an economic victory.

Whereas rent reeked of vulgar exploitation, profit claimed moral superiority as a just reward to brave entrepreneurs risking everything to navigate the treacherous currents of stormy markets. (…)

Why didn’t Nokia, Sony or Blackberry build their own store?

Because it was too late: with so many people signed up to Apple, the thousands of third-party developers were not going to spend their time and effort developing apps for other platforms.

To be competitive, Apple’s unwaged third-party developers, mainly partnerships or small capitalist firms, had no choice but to operate via the Apple Store.

The price? A 30 per cent ground rent, paid to Apple on all their revenues.

Thus a vassal capitalist class grew from the fertile soil of the first cloud fief: the Apple Store."

#technofeudalism #yanis varoufakis #book

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artaxlivs · 1 month

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Excerpt:

He died. He fucking died. Finally, Eddie Munson - lifelong coward, lifelong runner away from all things scary - did the brave thing, took the stand against evil and what the fuck is his reward? Death.

This is just fucking great.

“Eeeeddie.” An eerie voice creeps from inside the darkness of oblivion that Eddie has found himself in. “Eddie Munson. I want to make a deal with you. For your life.”

Eddie’s not an idiot. He knows how this goes, he’s been playing Dungeons and Dragons since its creation. He knows exactly what happens when a disembodied voice promises you things while you’re in the fugue state of death.

“Thanks, but no thanks!” He tries to shout, but it doesn’t come out any louder than his regular voice, and gets swallowed up by the darkness almost immediately.

“Oh, Eddie. Are you sure?” He can almost feel the voice curling around him, cloying but empty like cigarette smoke. “I can promise you vengeance against those who’ve wronged you. I can make you powerful. Unstoppable- unkillable, even. I can give you a second chance at life. All you have to do is pledge your allegiance to me.”

Usually Eddie sleeps through his history classes, but even he knows that pledging allegiance blindly is how genocide happens, who the fuck does Vecna think he’s fooling?

“Fuck that, man!” He attempts to yell into the void again. “Eddie Munson is no champion for the evil bad guy. No, thank you!”

An echoing voice breaks through the mist in answer. It sounds like two voices layered on top of each other, one hopeful, the other weary, but both resolute. “We can offer another choice. We can put you back. You can save everyone, but you’ll have to start at the beginning. It will not be easy, but you can stop him. Do you accept?”

Well. Fuck.

* * * * *

Read the whole fic on Ao3: End of The Beginning

Relationships: Will Byers & Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Eleven, Mike Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Barbara "Barb" Holland, Jonathan Byers, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Joyce Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant(kind of), Everybody Lives, Alternate Universe (but also the same), Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang 2023-2024, Inspired by Art, Time Loop (but not really)

Word count: 12,440

Rated M but just for language and themes (no smut, sorry my dudes)

No archive warnings

Artist: @alduade-art

Betas: Ash (who’s not on tumblr) and @alduade-art

Thanks to the mods @strangerthingsreversebigbang for being totally easy to work with and on top of everything all the time! This event was great!

#Eddie & Will Upsidedown bros #Steddie always #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things reverse bang #canon-ish

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hamletshoeratio · 3 months

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Pride was Theseus' fatal flaw.

He abandons Ariadne, the literal only reason he survived the labyrinth, because he feels he can do better or because he doesn't want to acknowledge that he couldn't defeat the minotaur and survive the labyrinth alone. He gets so caught up in his victory that he forgets to raise white flags so his (mortal) father knows he survived, and said father throws himself into the sea in despair and dies thinking his son is dead. Becoming King of Athens as a result of that, he becomes a tyrannical king because of his pride and because a toxic friend uses his pride to manipulate him. Where once he was brave and cared for other people, only attacking after first being attacked, after meeting Pirithous, he began doing dangerous and cruel things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. He becomes cruel and self-serving. He kidnaps a thirteen year old Helen of Sparta, intent on making her his wife (never mind the wife he already has) because she is a beautiful daughter of Zeus, the most beautiful girl on the Earth, who else would be worthy of her?, he thinks. He tries to help his friend kidnap Persephone, a goddess in her own right, so that they both can be married to daughters of Zeus, who could stand in their way? Hercules saves his ass from Hades' punishment, but even despite all of the above bullshit, the Gods still don't abandon him. Not until he murders his own son do they abandon him. He kills his son out of jealousy and out of pride. Now he's old, and his own people despise him, even the gods have abandoned him, so he decides to try and be a hero again. He fails. He's lost everything because of pride. Eventually, he is either pushed or he himself jumps (depends on the retelling) into the sea and drowns. If he was pushed, he was too proud and thought that he couldn't be tricked. If he jumped, maybe he was too proud to believe that his father had abandoned him, or maybe he realised his fatal flaw, realised the devastion that he left in his wake as a result and couldn't live with it.

Theseus represents the worst aspects of Poseidon. He's possessive, temperamental, violent, selfish, impulsive, and all-consuming. He doesn't take no for an answer. He's too proud. If Poseidon is anything, it's a prideful god. See the Odyssey, where he has a long vendetta against Odysseus for killing his son. See the Illiad where he sides the Greeks because Laomedon, the mortal King of Troy generations before Priam, Hector and Paris, promised a temporarily mortal Poseidon great reward for building the walls that would later protect Troy from the Greeks for over a decade, then when the task was done told him that setting him free is the best reward that Poseidon could hope for. Posedion took every opportunity to attack Trojan ships and even sent a blood thirsty sea serpent to terrorise the city. There's countless stories where Posedion's pride is the driving force behind them.

Pride is not all that Posedion is, but it's one of his faults.

Do you understand how significant his surrender is? Because I do and it's driving me insane. He sets it aside and he surrenders to his brother, a brother who once took his powers and made him mortal, the brother who is the very last person in the universe he would ever want to submit to. He does it to save Percy because Percy matters far more to him than his pride.

Posedion is one of the Gods who have grown the most since ancient times. He's no Saint and he will never be one, but he's calmed, he grown, he can now set his pride aside.

It's probably why Kymopoleia was banished (she deserves better from Rick because she is full of untapped potential and ngl hoo did her dirty and I can and probably will rant about it someday just not in this post), because she reminded Posedion too much of his dark side, a side he isn't indulging in as much because he's not conspiring to steal Zeus' throne, because as far as we know he doesn't have any vendetta currently ongoing (other than doing significant damage to Florida when Hera kidnaps Percy in tlh).

We do see Posedion set his pride aside for Percy in the books, in the last olympian when joins Zeus and Co in the battle, letting his own domain face destruction. Kronos doesn't expect Posedion to join Zeus & co because of his pride and he's both shocked and pissed that Posedion has done so. It wasn't part of his plan, he never considered that happening (which makes Hades showing up too so much sweeter). Percy had to ask him to do that. Seeing Posedion set his pride aside without a single word from Percy, who has closed his eyes and accepted his fate? I'M A FUCKING WRECK

#pjo #pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians spoilers #percy jackson #pjo show #pjo spoilers #pjo tv spoilers #pjo tv series #posedion #posedion pjo #toby stephens #give him every award

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notalkingbusiness · 2 months

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The Book of Carol & The Heroine's Journey - Part 3: The Ascent

The only way is up! The Ascent is where our heroine gets her happy ending.

Carriger's major beats for The Ascent include (1) the heroine succeeding in her search and creating a new or reborn familial network, and (2) the heroine negotiating and compromising for the benefit of all.

Let's think about how these beats could be used in The Book of Carol.

(1) Success in the heroine's search results in a new or reborn familial network.

The beat we're all waiting for! The moment when the heroine reunites with her loved one - the moment when Carol reunites with Daryl.

I think it's really important for us to pay close attention to how Carriger talks about this beat: the heroine's familial network is reborn when she reunites with her loved one. In other words, there's a spiritual shift in the heroine's relationship with her loved one. A deeper and more profound connection is forged. The heroine's relationship with her loved one changes for the better. We can't say that Carol's had a full Heroine's Journey if her relationship with Daryl remains unchanged - we need to see emotional growth.

This reunion has been a long time coming, both in-universe and in real life. It feels like we've been waiting an eternity for Carol and Daryl to reunite so it's absolutely critical that this scene blows us all away. It should feel overwhelming, like a great tidal wave of emotional catharsis.

Emotionally rewarding reunion scenes place a heavy emphasis on physicality. These scenes are richly detailed, and every touch is imbued with deep significance.

The Terminus reunion is a great example of a reunion done right and it's a masterclass in physicality. There are so many physical details in this reunion, too many to catch the first time around. With each rewatch you can appreciate all of the different component parts of the reunion: Caryl swaying together, the delight on Carol's face when Daryl picks her up, Daryl cradling Carol's head, Daryl resting his head on Carol's shoulder and Carol's fleeting touch of his face before he pulls away. You're struck by how these two can't get enough of each other; they always want to be closer. They can't stop drinking each other in and you don't want to stop drinking them in either.

Scenes like the Terminus reunion have a high rewatch factor because they're emotionally authentic: these scenes inspire us to keep revisiting them because they feel true to the characters, and we feel good watching them.

Reunions like these are the gift that keeps giving for fandom. How many gifs, videos, metas, and fics were born from this scene alone?

We all love the Terminus reunion because it's so physical and unequivocal. Caryl's mutual joy and relief is plain for all to see.

We need another wholehearted reaction from Daryl when he reunites with Carol in TBOC. His reaction should reflect the scale of Carol's journey: it needs to be big and it needs to break new ground.

We need both words and actions - we need strong physical and emotional responses from Daryl and Carol.

We need something that's going to be forever seared into our collective memory.

We need to see something which leaves both the audience and Carol with no doubt as to where Daryl's heart lies.

Reader, we need a Caryl reunion kiss.

(But you already knew that.)

Like I've said previously, if TBOC is taking Carol's emotions seriously, she's going to be emotionally vulnerable throughout her journey. Daryl can only give Carol the reassurances she so badly needs if he's in touch with his emotions.

I want to see Daryl restored to his emotionally intelligent self - I want to see the "man of honor".

I want to see Daryl being brave for both of them in an emotional capacity.

Not much fazes Caryl, they could fight their way through a sea of walkers before breakfast, but showing how they really feel? Talking about their feelings?

Petrifying for the pair of them.

Daryl was brave in taking the first step and telling Carol he loved her. He needs to be brave again in TBOC. He's got to initiate the kiss. He's got to show how grateful he is to have Carol in his life. He needs to show her just how much he loves her.

You've probably thought about Caryl's reunion a lot. Everyone will envisage Caryl going canon differently, but I'm sure we can all agree that the kiss should be heartfelt and sweepingly romantic. For my part, I want to see a kiss like the one described in The Princess Bride: “Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”

We can only get "a kiss to leave all others behind" if McReedus are allowed to capitalize on their amazing chemistry, if the show allows them to just go for it.

On Romance is Dead: The Rise and Fall (and Rise) of the Romantic Comedy, writer Scott Meslow notes: "There is something so delightful about watching two people fall in love. Especially if it's two actors who have chemistry. And I think chemistry is all important [...] it needs to be two people who seem like they actually like each other [...] Not to be corny about it, but that's a special effect that you can't replicate on a computer. That is real people having a real interaction on screen and you can feel it."

Meslow may worry about being corny. I have no such qualms - McReedus' chemistry is a special effect that you can't replicate on a computer. That's why the copycat Caryl beats in DD didn't work for anyone; you can't create chemistry by algorithm. You can't swap out characters/actors/storylines and expect us to feel the same way we did about Carol/Caryl. Not when we've been watching something unique and remarkable developing between two characters and two actors for over 150 episodes.

I want to see and feel that realness Meslow talks about when Caryl reunite. I want something unforgettable for Caryl and something where McReedus can shine. I want a reunion scene that we're going to watch over and over again because it's *perfect*.

I'm hoping Norman makes very expressive choices because Carol needs to see Daryl's emotions unmistakably playing out on his face.

Personally, I think it would be really powerful to see Daryl cry, either upon Caryl's reunion or when he finally has a heart to heart with Carol. And I do mean actually cry, rather than just being tearful.

We've seen Daryl close to tears in the "No Sanctuary" and "New Best Friends" reunions, but I don't think he's properly cried in front of Carol before. As video essayist Pop Culture Detective highlights in Boys Don't Cry (Except When They Do), it's extremely rare for men to cry in a healthy way in film/TV: male vulnerability has historically been met with shame and contempt. I want to see Daryl cry not because I want to see one of my favorite characters upset, but because I think he deserves to experience the whole emotional spectrum. Thus far we've only seen Daryl cry during/after majorly traumatic incidents (usually after witnessing horrifically violent deaths) and I think that's a real shame.

I want to see Daryl's happy tears, his tears of relief, his tears of emotional catharsis. If it's okay for Carol to cry, then it should be okay for Daryl to cry too. In fact, Daryl crying in a healthy way would actually be validating for Carol because it's testament to how safe she makes him feel. Daryl can cry in front of Carol and not feel ashamed because he can be vulnerable in front of the woman he loves.

Some scenes in TWD stopped me in my tracks. I'd be sitting there thinking, "Look how far they've all come!" In those moments, I'd feel weirdly proud of these fictional characters who'd changed for the better. I'd like to get that same feeling when watching TBOC as we witness Caryl enter a new era of emotional vulnerability and intimacy.

Caryl's passionate reunion would end all ambiguity and be the start of something new. I've placed a lot of emphasis on the moment of canon here, but it should go without saying that we're going to need carefully crafted follow-through. The writing needs to be just as strong as the performances. I'm craving strong dialogue - let Carol and Daryl finally use their words to explain how they feel about one another. Let them talk about what they want for their future together.

Carol and Daryl want to be together in every way - their romantic arc should include sexual intimacy (although I think we'll have to wait until S3 for that). TWD was always quite modest when it came to showing sex on screen so I'm not expecting anything too crazy, but we do deserve parity with the other big ships (Gleggie and Richonne). There's obviously less time to play with in the spinoffs, but I still think a really rich and rewarding romantic arc is possible if TPTB use their time wisely. Carol and Daryl becoming sexually intimate is a big deal and the story should treat it as such. Carol and Daryl always kept some degree of emotional distance from their previous sexual partners, they've always held themselves back and they've never really allowed themselves to be emotionally vulnerable in a relationship. I want to see Caryl's sex scenes handled respectfully and sensitively, I want these scenes to feel emotionally authentic for Carol and Daryl. Naturally, we should also get fun call backs to Caryl's iconic sexual/romantic references from the flagship show, e.g. Daryl goes down first.

A romantic arc for Caryl would be like a kiss of life for Carylers. It would be a triumphant moment for all of us - something unequivocally good for Caryl fans everywhere. We deserve a win. Carol and Daryl deserve a win too.

Caryl's romantic arc would also push back against the abuse hurled at Melissa, Carol, and Carylers. Many Carylers have received hate from other parts of the fandom and this abuse is steeped in deeply harmful misogynistic, sexist, and ageist rhetoric. This hate goes beyond ship wars. It points to something very insidious about how women are treated, how they're supposed to be invisible and undesirable once they reach an arbitrary age threshold. I want TPTB to prove just how wrong those people are. I want them to celebrate Carol and Caryl. I want them to show a heroine who loves and is loved in return. I want them to proudly showcase their leading lady. I want them to call out the misogynistic abuse thrown at Melissa/Carol/Carol fans. I want them to elevate Melissa's voice so we can have a fantastic heroine's arc for Carol.

(2) The heroine negotiating and compromising for the benefit of all.

As you'll know by now, the heroine is not concerned with glory/revenge/retribution. She just wants to get her loved one back and move on with her life. Carol's probably not going to be negotiating/compromising with the people who took Daryl, but she could use her diplomacy skills with Daryl's new friends in France. I didn't watch S1 of the spinoff, but I understand that some of Daryl's new friends were trying to get him to stay with them rather than go home. It should be abundantly clear to Isabelle & co. that Daryl has no intention of staying in France when they see him reunited with Carol. They'll be sad to lose a friend, but Carol could soften the blow by offering them a sweet trade deal with the Commonwealth. Isabelle just wants what's best for her people, right? Strengthening the bonds between communities would help Isabelle's people enormously. I much prefer the idea of two women coming together to help each other than a woman expecting a stranger to come in and fix all of her problems for her. I haven't heard great things about Isabelle, but I'm really hoping she's given more agency and dignity in TBOC. There's absolutely no narrative need to pit Isabelle and Carol against each other. As our heroine, Carol can empower Isabelle AND bring Daryl home. She can find a solution where everyone wins.

Final Thoughts on The Ascent

Ultimately, The Ascent is gearing up towards the heroine's happy ending. We need to ask ourselves, what does a happy ending look like for Carol? What do we want for her after TBOC?

Simply put, Carol's happy ending is having Daryl by her side. It's being with him in every sense of the word. It's being free to express her love for him.

Carol wants new adventures with Daryl, and I want to see those adventures on my screen.

Years ago, Carol and Daryl talked about running away together. I hope, after they've returned home and reunited with their family, they are able to do just that.

Let them explore the world on their own terms.

Let them explore it together.

Let them be equal and loving partners every step of the way.

And there we have it! We've covered all the major stages of the Heroine's Journey.

My aim in writing these metas wasn't to be overly prescriptive, but to show that TBOC could have an amazing arc for Carol/Caryl. We just need TPTB to prioritize emotional authenticity and elevate their heroines (both on screen and bts).

They've got one chance to put Caryl and Carylers back on track.

Let's hope they take it.

#caryl #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #the book of carol #twd caryl

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iamnicodemus · 1 year

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Dragonfire

Pairing: Dragon!Wednesday Addams x Knight!Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After a dragon attack leaves a village on edge, a wandering knight is tasked with slaying the great beast. When the knight enters the dragon's lair, however, they find something quite different from the winged horror they'd expected...

A/N: This is an alternate, high fantasy universe where Wednesday Addams is a shapeshifting dragon. This is also my first ever fic on this site and my first time ever writing from this PoV (it's also barely proofread, lol). I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to leave feedback. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

When you’d entered through the mouth of a cave near the summit and made your descent into the hollows of the mountain, you’d expected that your journey would eventually bring you face-to-face with a dragon. You wouldn’t have come to this godsforsaken place otherwise — navigating winding, uneven stone corridors and ducking under stalactites that looked to have been polished to razor perfection. After a recent incident in which a great black dragon had sundered much of the fertile fields surrounding a nearby village, the leaders of said village had called for the monster’s head. You, a traveling knight errant, were the only one brave enough to rise to the occasion. You’d been tasked with searching the mountain where it supposedly dwelled and slaying it without mercy. The reward? A handsome sum of gold and a great accolade under your belt, both of which were invaluable to you.

Work had not come by easily as of late. More often than not, you were forced to set up meager camps in the woods due to being unable to afford a room at an inn. You slept on a rough bedroll on the grass, your throat parched and stomach aching with hunger most nights before you drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Assuming, of course, that the surrounding wildlife allowed you to rest without fear, or that highwaymen wouldn’t happen upon your position. Both had occurred on numerous occasions, and your armor still bore the scuffs and dings from each encounter.

This mission was an opportunity to change all of that, for good. Either you’d claim the dragon’s head and be eating like a king for a good while, you’d meet your end in a hellish blaze, or — if you’d refused the mission — you’d be a week or two away from living in squalor. The first two possibilities were largely preferable to the third.

The air grew colder the lower you descended through the cave, A deep silence filled the cavern, broken only by the clang of your iron boots against stone. The noise wasn’t ideal. You’d hoped to approach the monster quietly, perhaps finding it curled up in its chamber, fast asleep. The way your footfalls were sounding, however, you’d be lucky if it weren’t wide awake and lying in wait for you. You half expected it to come racing up the cavern any moment now, its maw opened wide with anticipation, purple flames waiting to erupt from its throat.

Your heart hammered beneath your beige tunic and iron cuirass. You kept your sword raised at all times, taking what little comfort you could from behind the slim protection it offered. In your other hand you carried a lantern, creating a cone of light in what would’ve otherwise been pitch darkness.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering through the semidark, you finally spotted an incandescent light pouring out from the vaulted entryway at the end of the passage. This was it! The dragon’s lair. Excitement and apprehension knotted up in your chest as you made your approach. You weren’t sure when you started running. Your boots pounded against the ground, the lantern swinging wildly in your grasp at your side. Your breath hitched, and then, you emerged—

—into a long, rectangular chamber that looked less like the vast, bone-littered lair of a dragon, and more like an eccentric aristocrat’s dreary getaway. To say you were baffled would be an understatement.

Flaming sconces and dark tapestries lined the smooth, limestone walls. A chair and table, both looking to be hewn from slate, were set up in a corner. Upon the table sat a large stack of parchment and a black-feathered quill beside it. A viol and its bow were leaned against the far wall.

What stood out most, however, was the coffin-shaped bed in the middle of the chamber — and the human shape resting atop it.

You inched closer, sword at the ready. Laying on a black pillow and linen sheet, arms crossed over her chest like a corpse before burial, was a girl that looked to be your age. She was almost porcelain pale, with merlot lips and raven hair styled in a parted fringe and two tightly wound braids that hung at opposite sides of her head.

Despite the confusion welling up in you and the strained atmosphere that came with hunting a dragon, you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skitter upon seeing her. She was absolutely gorgeous, and the thought nearly revolted you because you weren’t yet sure if she was fast asleep, or if you were looking upon a well-preserved corpse.

Who was she, even? A captive of the monster? She looked to be a noblewoman of some sort, if the fine, pitch-black kirtle and white chemise adorning her were any indication. And yet you hadn’t heard anything about the dragon kidnapping anyone, let alone someone of nobility. And what was up with the furnishings in here? Since when did dragons care about those?

None of this made sense. Had you scaled the wrong mountain, stumbled through the wrong cave, and trespassed on a particularly refined hermit’s home? No, this was definitely the mountain you’d been directed to. The dragon had last been seen prowling around the summit before disappearing into its depth, not that you could for the life of you figure out how such a large creature managed to squeeze through this narrow, rocky deathtrap of a cave system.

Her eyes shot open.

“How long are you going to stand there staring? I’d like to continue sleeping without a loud, toy soldier in tin plate hovering over me.”

A yelp almost escaped you. You startled back, sword almost slipping from your grasp.

The girl abruptly sat up and pinned you with a searching gaze. You froze. The way she studied you — through dark brown eyes that seemed as though they could dissect you with naught but a look - was unnerving. Yet, you could not bring yourself to look away. Your skin flushed with heat and your heart raced.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice perfectly even.

“Uh, I’m, er—” Damn it, why were you stuttering? “I’m looking for the….dragon?”

You felt silly saying it aloud, even more so under the gaze of this stranger. You must’ve been given bad information, because there was no logical way a fully-fledged dragon could dwell in a cramped place like this.

She didn’t react at all to your statement. In fact, her angular face remained clear of any emotion. Not how most would react to news of a winged, firebreathing beast in the area.

“And why have you come looking for me?”

For me.

Your brows drew into a frown. Had she misspoken?

You soon got your answer as she slid out of the oddly shaped bed, her right hand raised. Suddenly, her black-painted nails started to elongate, curving into razor talons. You watched in horror as a layer of obsidian black scales sprouted across her hand. Her stare never left you.

Your blood ran cold. You raised your sword reflexively, leveling the tip to her throat.

She moved like a streak of lightning, crossing the chamber in the space of a breath and swiping the sword from your hand. The blade shattered beneath the force of her clawed strike, littering the ground with iron shards. All that remained in your grasp was a leather-bound hilt, wholly useless in the face of the girl you now took to be the very dragon you were hunting. Somehow, she’d transformed into a human, or at least wore the guise of one.

You swallowed thickly. Despite the fact that she was shorter than you, her presence loomed higher than anyone you’d ever met.

Anyone else would’ve shrunk away from her, to cower and hope mercy fell upon them. You remained rooted where you stood. Out of fear? Perhaps. But also, up close, you noticed the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Could start to make out the microexpressions beneath the mask of aloofness. The way her eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance at the fact that you hadn’t answered her question.

��I’m not fond of repeating myself. Why are you here?” she said, drawing out the last question slightly, every word laced with cold menace.

You pondered the question for a moment longer. Saying you’d been sent there to kill her was a great way to get yourself disemboweled by her fearsome claws, but it seemed if you didn’t loosen your tongue soon, that would be the fate that awaited you anyway.

“Well…. I’m a knight—”

“Yes, because your sword and armor weren’t clear giveaways.”

“---and a local village tasked me with handling their dragon problem, after said dragon torched their crops,” you continued as though you hadn’t been interrupted.

She scoffed. “I burned half of their crops. What remains of their fields remains perfectly fertile. They’re lucky I spared even that much.”

“Well, despite your generosity, they still want you dead. But I’m very much open to this ending a different way,” you quickly added. Given your predicament — weaponless and more or less at her complete mercy — it was best you didn’t make it out as though you were still intent on killing her. Besides, you weren’t altogether sure you wanted her dead now. You’d embarked on a journey to slay a mindless, rampaging beast, not a person.

She didn’t say anything. She neither moved nor blinked. Maybe she was waiting for you to explain your alternative solution. Whatever was going on in that head of hers, the fact that you were still alive was favorable. But before you divulged anything more, you needed some answers yourself.

“Why did you attack their field?”

“Why does that matter?” she retorted.

“Knowing the context behind would probably go a long way with winning me over.”

“I’m not concerned with winning you over.”

“Then humor me. Come on, whatever your motive was, it’s not like I’m really a threat to you at this point, so my reaction doesn’t matter.”

“You were never a threat to me. You came here completely unprepared, with all the subtlety of a trebuchet, and apparently lacking even the most basic knowledge that dragons are capable of adopting humanoid forms.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not a very good knight, are you?”

Ouch. That… actually stung a bit. And wait, was that really common knowledge? Why the hell hadn’t you heard about it?

Sighing, you pressed on. “My failings as a knight aside, look, maybe there’s a way this ends with you getting that village off your back and me walking out of your lair with my life. You know as well as I do that I won’t be the last person they send after you.”

“If it came to that, I’d incinerate every intruder and decorate the cavern with their charred bones.”

Gruesome. “We haven’t known each other long, but I get the sense that you’ve got better things to do than killing a new challenger everyday. Besides, if one doesn’t work, they’ll send two. Then they’ll send whole teams. Soon enough, they’ll have a mage join the hunt, and badass dragon or not, you probably don’t want to fight one of those.”

She exhaled sharply, exasperation flashing across her eyes. You wondered for a moment if you’d said too much.

Then, she turned away from you and wandered back over to her bed. You noticed the scales on her hand fade, and her talons retract. She sat down, facing you.

“My brother was attacked in that village,” she began. “He was in his mortal guise. He thought to go fishing in the stream, but apparently the villagers don’t take well to outsiders poaching from their waters, and he was taken and flogged in the street.”

Your heart sank. To think such an innocent mistake had been punished so harshly. Even though her face remained impassive, you noticed the way her jaw tightened as she recounted the tale.

“Though a dragon, my brother is a whelp, and didn’t retaliate. He is weak and shies away from exacting retribution.”

Harsh words for her own brother, but it was clear she cared deeply about him.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d done worse,” you said, gently.

Her brows raised slightly. She looked a touch surprised, the first real expression you’d seen from her.

“I considered it strongly,” she said, bluntly.

“I’m sure they’re thanking the gods you didn’t go through with it. You’re a lot more merciful than I would’ve been.”

“There’s no need to insult me.”

You snorted. “Wasn’t intending to. What you did was smarter, actually. Slaughtering them would’ve prompted a much harsher response from the survivors and neighboring towns. Thanks to your choice, you only have to deal with one woefully unprepared knight.”

A smile tugged at your lips.

She stared at you, considering your words carefully. After a pensive beat of silence, she spoke. “I assume, to sate their desire for vengeance and prevent them from sending more idiots after me, you’ll need to return with proof that I’ve been slain.”

You nodded, giving an uneasy shrug. “Yeah. I don’t suppose you have a way around that?”

She didn’t respond immediately. She lifted her hand and snapped twice. You heard a gentle whoosh and something came flying past you. It was a sheet of parchment, one of those you’d seen stacked on the corner table.

You watched curiously as she balled the parchment up whilst muttering something quickly under her breath. From what little you could make out of what she was saying, it didn’t seem she was speaking in any language you understood.

Your lips parted in amazement as a black whirl of smoke enveloped the crumpled parchment. The gathering of smoke increased in size, taking on some sort of long, slightly curved shape. After several seconds, it dissipated. The girl now held a large, faded white tooth, no doubt one that could be found in the maw of a dragon.

Her gaze flickered up to yours, taking in your awe. “Those wizards you mentioned earlier? They wouldn’t have stood a chance either.”

“You’re a mage,” you breathed out.

“Obviously. How else would I have paved this chamber?”

She stood up and walked over to you, massive tooth in hand. She deposited it in your outstretched arms. Your arms sagged slightly under its weight, but that did little to deter you from marveling at her creation, your eyes wide.

“It’s an illusion. It should be convincing enough for your village, but the spell will last a couple of days at most. Show them your ‘proof’ and then get rid of it before the illusion fades.”

She sighed. “I will be leaving this cave soon. It seems my little respite from home has been compromised.”

Your chest prickled with guilt. “I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can do before I go? Anything at all?”

The girl looked fixedly at you. Her features softened. The two of you were standing close enough for you to notice something flicker behind her brown, doe eyes. Gratitude? Fondness? Whatever it was, it made your heart flutter.

“I’m not used to a mortal engaging with me,” she said, quietly. “And certainly not one who knew what I was.

“You’ve done enough.”

You nodded, resigning yourself to this. At least you could offer her this much, getting an angry village off her back.

You shuffled around and made your way back towards the vaulted passage you’d entered through. Your footfalls clanged against the stone floor, and with every step you took, a small pang of sadness shot through your chest. Would you ever see her again? It was highly unlikely, given the circumstances, but you hoped you would.

Stopping in front of the passageway, you peered back at her. “I never got your name,” you said, meeting her eyes.

When she didn’t respond, you almost turned back around, assuming she didn’t plan on giving you a name.

Then—

“Wednesday.”

You paused, lips parting slightly. A smile spread across your face. It was certainly a unique name, and you found you liked it quite a lot.

“Wednesday,” you repeated, softly. As her name rolled off your tongue, you thought you saw her cheeks go the slightest shade of pink.

With a final nod, you turned back around and made your way out of the chamber. You felt her stare on your back the entire time. The feeling made you chuckle. As you set off through the perilous cavern, you hoped it wouldn’t be the last time you were caught in this dragon’s gaze.

A/N: I want to give a special mention to these three users: @i984, @robiin-buckley, and @captain-lessship. They are incredible writers and even better people, and I absolutely implore you to check out their works! They inspired me to write a fic of my own and gave me excellent advice when I sought it from them. I appreciate them immensely.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x gender neutral reader #wednesday fic #wednesday addams x you #wednesday imagine #netflix wednesday #wednesday addams #dragon wednesday #knight reader #wednesday series #fanfic #fantasy #high fantasy #x you #gender neutral reader

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toastytrusty · 9 months

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thinking endlessly about how romans main relationships outside of the family in later seasons are lukas and mencken, and how their dynamics with rome foil each other both narratively and in-universe. lukas represents them selling waystar, represents emotional vulnerability, represents freedom. mencken, on the other hand, represents them keeping the company, represents the toxic façade of who you Need to be, represents remaining trapped. the way romes emotions fuel the contrasting dynamics between them is endlessly fascinating

lukas, upon his second time meeting rome, immediately continuously attempts to talk abt deep kinda personal/emotional stuff, which rome shut down because he's afraid of self expression, even though deep down he craves connection. this probably scares him, so, especially after logan's death and lukas' reaction to it (on one hand being a dick and not pushing back the meeting, on the other hand trying in his own autistic way to connect and empathize with their loss, as well as being real about how awful logan was), roman distances himself. he feels pushed to the edge of his sanity and reverts to what comes most naturally to him, you guessed it, eeeemotion. he freaks out at lukas on the cliff, in his head burning any bridge built between them, which tbf he pretty much does. but to lukas, this is almost like a win for him. he's been trying to encourage roman to open up to him since they met, and he finally did! so the $5 price bump is almost like a congratualtions or a reward, as well as a spiteful fuck you. narratively it takes them one step closer to selling the company, roman's emotion being what puts him there, and in this case it's being appreciated. really, rome wants out of the company; he wants to sell and he wants to be free of it and all the pressure and expectation that comes with it.

whereas mencken was always very business-focused with roman; joking and laughing in a detached, not very real way. his focus was always succeeding and going far and not really caring how he got there, and i think that's part of why roman liked him. there was no expectation to be genuine or actually connect; he could just put on his brave face and do what they felt needed to be done. when he pushed lukas away because things got too real, he continued seeking out mencken because mencken was easy to appeal to in that way he so often does; changing himself to suit there needs. he puts mencken over everything else that mattered in his life (relationships with his family members mainly he doesn't gaf about The Economy) because he didn't have to be real with mencken. it was all just the blind pursuit for power he didn't really want and a security he felt more threatened by than anything, because he got too far in and set his sights on something (or more accurately kendall set his sights on something, and who was rome to protest?) and had to acheive it. so when the façade breaks, and mencken sees him for the first time not as the charming, witty, businessman, but as the damaged person who just wasn't built for the world, he walks away, no longer looking to protect waystar, or roman. love and sensitivity and emotion are all weaknesses to mencken, weakness he had previously not seen in roman, but now that he had it was too late. rome couldn't pretend forever and mencken bailed, handing waystar (and roman!! becase their ties to waystar are through roman!!) back to lukas and the gojo deal on a silver platter.

this inadvertantly pushes roman back towards freedom, and, in a way, back towards lukas. he told mr emotions to fuck off and ran away to be his self absorbed emotionless husk with someone who wanted nothing more from him, but that didn't work out too well. he can't stay in the cage that is waystar, he can't spend all of his time being someone he's not; it's exhausting. lukas represents his ability to acheive freedom from the toxic environment of waystar, as well as the fact that he will eventually have to confront reality, and mencken represents his unhealthy, and ultimately doomed to fail, coping mechanisms and avoidance behavior. when he tries to twist his perspective of the people around him to make them seem like good people (logan, MENCKEN), lukas shuts it down (at least with logan; i don't think the two of them ever talk abt mencken) and makes rome confront the fact that they aren't, and when rome is so deep into being someone he isn't, lukas encourages him to be himself, whereas mencken condemns him for it

#succession #hbo succession #succession hbo #roman roy #lukas matsson #jeryd mencken #romelukas #romencken #the ping pong game he plays between them as his mental state wavers is endlessly fascinating to me #lukas' last line to him being “i love you” showing his ability to reconcile with his sensitivity and freedom..#showing he isn't so badly damaged he can't heal..#him always liking mencken more/choosing mencken over most other people representing how badly repressed his emotions are #he's always revolving his life around other people hoping that one day someone will treat him with a fraction of the same care #changing his manneurisms and opinions depending on who he's in front of to try and appeal to them #but mencken is proof and the living embodiment that that will never work #he will never survive in the corporate landscape no one will ever respect him or show him any care or love #anyways #sorry if this is entirely incoherent i just needed to ramble

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essentialthyme · 7 months

Text

[Outer Wilds SPOILERS!]

In the very first loop, I figured out that the sun was dying. I went to the museum, saw the model and was reminded exactly of what a supernova is. 22 minutes later the sun explodes. I was like "oh... fuck" and I knew there was no "saving the solar system" so I didn't get the experience some people got when they went to Sun Station. It was actually disappointing, to finally get there only for the reward to be knowledge I already had. No realization dread. No just sitting there and waiting for the inevitable.

BUT!

Well, I HATE Ms. Dark Bramble. I hate her and her little monsters, they have no right to be that terrifying. I went there for the first time because I really wanted to meet Feldspar, and after a shit ton of suffering I made it, did what I had to do, restarted to loop and said "I ain't going back there, thank you" like a fucking IDIOT because of COURSE there's more to be done there. But I could do it later. Like, at the end of the game. Probably.

So I do everything I can think of, all my logs cleared except for the Vessel. Having done the math, I knew what I had to do. I had coordinates + a core I could use to power up... sigh. I decide to face my nightmare without retrieving the core from the ATP bc Ms. Bramble HATES me, and there's a 100% chance I will die. I do die. I get some practice. I reach the escape pod. I reach the seed, the tomb. I nearly cry, because I fucking love the Nomai and I really wanted them to make it, but they met their end long, long ago, and yet it doesn't get easier to me, seeing it.

I die some more, I reach the Vessel.

I read the first panel: It was all avoidable. That's a conversation for another time. Like, I have so much to say about it, it's insane. But we're on a timer.

I read the second panel.

Nomai talking about the dying stars, about the end of the universe. Talking about meeting up, somewhere that has the potential to be safe.

I don't think anything in the game could beat the feeling I got while I read that panel, slowly realizing that this conversation is RECENT. These Nomai might very well be alive! Right now! After exploring all of their lost civilization, their doomed history in this solar system. After meeting Solanum. I don't know.

After hours of playing a game where all my experiences where laced with grief, a tiny spark of hope.

I still have, at the very least, one more loop to go.

Even though I really want to, I know I can't save anyone. None of the Travelers, none of the Hearthians. I can't save Solanum. I don't know if the Nomai are really alive, or if it's just wishful thinking. Even if they are, I probably won't meet them. I won't get to talk to them and tell the stories about their brave ancestors, of their recklessness, of their genius, of their wonder.

All I have are the coordinates to the Eye.

And I owe it to those who came before me, the Nomai, the Hearthians, the people who played this game before I I did, to go and see it for myself.

I hope it's worth it.

#outer wilds #gaming #i don't know when i'll play it again but i'm going to try to play it tomorrow #my ps5 is set up in the living room and it's not usually a big deal #but i want to be alone for this #in case i cry

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septnanis · 2 months

Text

canopy

a Destiel post-canon fix-it bit

Once Cas gets back, they orbit each other like a binary system. Always close but never getting close enough to speak the unspeakable. They spend the first few weeks in the bunker marinating in the awkward silences and equally awkward conversations before Dean has had enough.

He is a forty year old man who has faced down every thing from suburban ghosts to the creator of the universe and he feels almost embarrassed how he can’t strike up the nerve to talk to Cas.

So Dean packs a bag, walks to Cas’ room and tells him to suit up, get his shit and meet him in the garage in an hour. Cas just gives him that look that reminds Dean that Cas is a million year old celestial creature and Dean is a little human speck. It makes him grin all the way to the garage.

Cas shows up fifty minutes later, packed bag in tow. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue henley covered by a chambray shirt that makes Dean’s mouth dry up because Cas looks handsome and capable and like a Winchester.

“Where are we going,” Cas asks, likely out of curiosity because Dean knows it won’t affect his decision to come along. “A hunt?”

“Hunt what?” Dean asks right back at him. “We, my angelic friend, are going to reap the rewards of killing God and go wherever the hell we want.”

With those words, Dean sits himself in the driver’s seat and pulls the door shut with a satisfying click. Cas joins him in the passenger’s seat and moves about until he’s sitting at a comfortable angle.

“We didn’t kill God,” Cas says. “We… deactivated him.”

Dean starts the car and turns to grin at Cas. “You didn’t do anything,” Dean says. “You were chilling in the Empty.”

Someone else might have been offended at the obvious dig, but Cas just grins back at him.

—-

Several weeks on the road and Dean has never felt free the way he does now. They’ve been to more than a dozen roadside attractions, some more bizarre than others. Cas likes the particularly strange ones, asks even stranger questions.

Dean gives the cheap motels a wide berth and gets the rooms in nice hotels.

In Vermont, he fishes out his phone while Cas is pumping gas and looks for a bed and breakfast. One, because he thinks it’s hilarious and two, he’s really always wanted to stay at one that wasn’t haunted.

“How do you feel about canopy beds?” Dean asks without looking up.

Cas clears his throat and puts the gaspump back. “Seems a bit redundant, a bed with a roof inside a building with a roof? But I guess it’s… cozy?”

Dean does look up at Cas, his finger hovering over the Book Now button. The man is all big blue eyes and heather grey sweatshirt and Dean is in love with him, probably has been for years.

“Would you like anything?” Cas asks as he starts walking towards the station to pay.

Dean shakes his head and hits the booking button like he’s on a mission.

When Cas comes back out, he puts a cold bottle of water in Dean’s hand even though Dean didn’t want anything.

“You need to hydrate yourself,” Cas says and turns to walk away.

“I love you,” Dean says. It stops Cas so abruptly it’s like time has stopped. “I’m… I’m in love with you. And we’re at a gas station which is a stupid place to say this but here we fucking are.”

Cas turns back to Dean and looks apprehensive.

“Before the Empty swiped you,” Dean keeps going because this once in a lifetime momentum and even he knows he’s on a one way street now. “You told me all these great things about me. And if anyone else had told me I would’ve laughed my ass off at them. But I actually believed you.”

The apprehension in Cas’ eyes remains steadfast, his whole body language like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You told me you loved me,” Dean says. “And then you were gone. Didn’t even give me a chance to think about it, much less figure out that… you’re it for me too, Cas. You’re loyal and you’re brave and kind and maybe the most stubborn, toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

Thankfully the apprehension makes way for what looks like a spark of hope in Cas’ eyes. It reminds Dean yet again that this is a million year old celestial creature, hiding out in a human vessel, inexplicably in love with this little human speck.

“I love you, Castiel,” Dean says. He shrugs, because there’s nothing else he can think of to say.

Cas smiles at him so beautifully it becomes clear pretty quickly there’s nothing else he has to say.

—-

Later, Dean pulls the covers up over their heads and kisses Cas for what feels like the hundredth time. He decides he’ll never ever get tired of it.

“Under the covers, under a canopy, under a roof,” Dean says, smiling wide. Cas eyes are the color of the sky once the sun has set in the minimal light. “How’s that for redundant?”

“It’s cozy,” Cas says. He runs his knuckles over Dean’s face.

This is freedom, Dean decides. This is peace.

Also available on ao3: canopy

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Flyboy

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Extremely Explicit! Word Count: 12k Warnings: Alcohol, gold medal flirting, cocky young Frankie should have a warning all his own, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, masturbation, tits, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, somnophilia (roleplay? technically? I dunno). Summary: Out to celebrate with your coworkers, you have a random encounter with a handsome Army pilot and decide to take a chance. Notes: ✨💖🎈Last week I passed the unbelievable milestone of 1.5k followers and I just absolutely cannot thank all of you lovely folx enough!! Well over a THOUSAND of you have joined me since I became a part of the Pedro fandom a little over a year ago and I am just continually floored by the amazing response you’ve all had to not only my work alone but my collaborations with Keri. Being able to come to this little corner of the internet and share my words with all of you has been a gift of magnitude that I cannot begin to explain properly. You have my gratitude, dear readers and followers, and I hope to continue to be silly in this corner of the internet with you for a long time to come.🎈💖✨

✈ I know the gif is from Hermanas, but I chose it because this is baby Frankie! ✈

The party had started with noon beers at your coworker's college graduation party. When it turned into afternoon sangria and then evening margaritas, the group of merrily celebrating coworkers had begun to dwindle a few at a time. Somebody's spouse came to whisk them off to dinner from the bar. A significant other joined the group for one drink and they both left together by the next. One of the older members of the group threw in the towel when she ran out of cigarettes, calling it her signal from the universe that her night was over. Another got called away by a different group of friends. Now it's just three of you left, bellied up to a high-top table in a dive bar with busy pool tables and a karaoke contest going on. The basket of popcorn on the table between you keeps you thirsty enough to brave the commotion to grab another rum and Coke, even as your two friends are giggling over the group of flyboys that are conquering the pool tables. "Who wants another?" You ask above the music, pointing to your friends' dwindling glasses.

Nights out on the town were sacred. The reward for surviving the instructors all week and not killing anyone as they learned control of the Bell UH-1 Iroquois, otherwise known as the Huey. “Yo Fish!” Frankie huffs, looking up from the table where he is positioned for his shot, knowing that the cocky motherfucker was just trying to distract him from his shot. He lands the next ball in the corner pocket and Smith owes him a hundred bucks. “It’s your turn to by rounds man!”

“In a hundred bucks!” He yells back, shaking his head. He turns back to the table, leaning down and calculating angles before he pushes the chalked-up cue forward to strike the cue ball into the striped three ball, pushing it into the corner pocket he had called earlier.

There's good natured hollering and jeering as you head toward the bar to grab another round for your friends as the flyboys give one of their own a hard time about something, and their inevitable good mood means it's going to take longer to squeeze past the pool tables to get to the bar. "Civilian coming through, boys. Make room!" You joke, trying to get them to move just enough to give you a tiny path through.

Rivera might be one of the best in the class, second only to Frankie, but he was a clumsy son of a bitch. It’s pure dumb luck that Frankie turns right as Rivera jumps back, his exuberant cheering causing him to back into the pretty woman that is edging her way through the sea of Army pilots in training. “Fuck!” Leaping forward, he manages to push past the overgrown child to catch her before she falls flat on her unstable - and cute - butt.

"You guys are really taking that whole sweep a girl off her feet thing seriously these days, I see." The one guy in the bunch with fast enough reflexes to keep you from hitting the ground is broad and strong, towering over you as he lifts you back up to your feet as easily as you snatched a falling piece of popcorn out of the air earlier. "Thanks, flyboy."

Frankie grins, quick and sharp, liking the way you punned your rescue. “Not but the best for damsels in distress.” He tells you with a wink. “But I’ll let you buy me a drink to thank me.” He’s teasing, knowing full well he won’t let you buy him a drink, although he would buy you one if you’ll let him.

"Hmmm." Pretending to consider him, you give the dimpled, smirking pilot a long look up and down before you nod. It's been a long day of carousing with people you're sort of half-friends with, and you could use a few minutes of getting hit on to revitalize your enthusiasm for the night before you go back to them. "Alright," you agree, aiming a smirk of your own right at him. "But just you, not the round you're supposed to be buying for all your buddies."

Chuckling, Frankie turns around and shoves the hundred dollar bill he had just taken off Smith back into the man’s hand. “There you go boys.” He crows. “Rounds on me and I’ll win another round some other time.” He tells him, knowing that Smith will beckon the pretty red headed waitress over to order some more beers and shots.

"So what's your poison, flyboy?" Having lived in this town for years, the tales of the Army pilots scouring their favourite dives for local girls to entertain for a night - or sometimes a whole weekend if the story gets embellished - are plentiful and entertaining. It's not the first time you've had run ins with them, if you could call this a run in, but it's the first time you've seen this particular guy and he is extremely easy on the eyes. Sidling up to the crowded bar together, you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves beside you. Like a summer night but in human form.

Frankie smirks, enjoying the nickname, even if ‘Morales’ is clearly marked on his uniform with a neat name bar. “Francisco, but you can call me Frankie or ‘Cat’ if you want.” He tells you. “What’s your name? I didn’t quite catch it when I was catching you.”

“I must have forgotten my manners with the lack of gravity,” you joke, giving him an amused smile before you tell him your first name.

“Beautiful.” He gives you a small wink. “Just like you.” After casually dropping the compliment, he turns towards the bartender who’s just arrived. “Drinks on my tab.” He tells him before he looks back at you. “What’ll it be?”

“I thought I was buying?” The question doesn’t hang in the air for long because the bartender is swamped, and you shake your head at the pilot beside you. “Rum and Coke.” You tell the bartender after another second, and you fish a few bills out of your pocket. “And two more margaritas for the two girls at the corner table by the windows.” You’ll happily kill a little time with this flyboy, and the bar has plenty of capable waitresses who can deliver the round you promised to buy.

Frankie shakes his head and pushes your money back towards you. “I’ll get it.” He tells you before ordering his own, a beer since he was under strict order to not embarrass the Army by getting shitfaced.

“You don’t have to pay for my friends.” Offering him the bill instead, you roll your eyes when he gives you an ’are you serious?’ look and tuck the money back into your pocket. “Thanks, then. From what’s left of my squad. I know they’ll appreciate it.”

“Girls’ night out?” He asks, craning his neck to look over at the table where the other two girls are watching you with devious little grins on their faces. Frankie tilts his head up in acknowledgement but then his eyes fall back to you. “Not putting a damper on things, am I?”

“Not at all.” You give your friends a wave and lean on the bar a little more. “We had a coworker’s graduation party this afternoon and we’ve been bar hopping ever since. Started out with ten of us and we’re the last three.”

“Three musketeers of trouble, huh?” He grins, matching your stance and swipes at his bottom lip with his tongue. Habit more than trying to draw your attention to his lips, but he doesn’t miss your eyes following the movement. “So which one are you?”

“Porthos, obviously.” Alright, he might be the only man in uniform to ever flirt with you using literary references, so you’re going to go ahead and give him bonus points for that even if he’s only ever seen the movies. He’s far too hot to not get bonus points for something. “Always up for a good joke, a drink, a flirt, all that good stuff. Nothing’s ever serious until it’s deadly serious and by that time I’ve already thought of three puns to use while kicking somebody’s ass.” That might be giving yourself a tad too much credit, but what is flirting if not selling yourself? Good sales need embellishment sometimes, that’s all.

“Really?” He lifts a brow and chuckles, enjoying the easy banter between the two of you. While going out was always in the hopes of meeting a gorgeous lady to perhaps take home - or in his case, get her to take him home - it wasn’t a requisite for a good night. However, his prospects for not sleeping alone just got better. “Aramis is more my personality but instead of religion, it’s flying.” He jokes. “Or maybe flying is my religion.”

“Seductions, poetry, and unwavering loyalty.” Clicking your tongue, the shoulder shrug you give him is more animated than just a dismissive little gesture. “That’s a hell of a way to promote yourself.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag…” The playful banter is cut off by the bartender bringing the drinks over and he sets all four in front of you. “I’ll deliver the drinks to the table.” He offers, giving you the choice of ending the conversation or continuing.

“Sure.” You can agree to that, despite knowing that your coworkers will try to chat him up and either tell him a ridiculous story about you or - much more embarrassing - tell him how long it’s been since you dated anybody and tease him about taking you home. Not that that would be a particularly bad thing. Not this guy. At least he has a brain behind that smirk.

Frankie nods, picking up the two margaritas and turning around to deliver them to the table. Buoyed by the fact that you aren’t following behind him, and still leaning against the bar as he holds the drinks up carefully to keep from being jostled as he winds through the crowd. “Ladies.” He coos as he sets them down. “Margaritas, compliments of your lovely co-worker.”

“I told you she was gonna get hit on next.” Your younger coworker complains, clearly hoping she would have gotten that honour. “You’re sure these aren’t from you and your buddies over there?”

“Annie—” The other woman swats at the friend’s arm playfully and offers the man in front of them a smile. “Ignore her. Thank you for the delivery, handsome. Be good to our girl, okay?”

Frankie chuckles and looks over at the swarm of servicemen still crowding around the pool table. “I’ll tell you what?” He points over at Smith. “You go up to that tall, goofy looking motherfucker right there and tell him ‘Cat said to buy us a round’, I’ll bet you that he’ll hit on you.” He looks at Annie. “And the one with the glasses? He’ll hit on you.” He predicts, knowing they are very much the other men’s type. “But at least you’ll get a free round.”

“See how gallant he is?” The older of the two women laughs and picks up her drink from where he set it in front of her and even Annie has to smile in agreement. “She,” your coworker leans in closer to the pilot conspiratorially and points at you across the crowded bar. “Loves reading and live music, and is inhuman without her morning coffee so make sure you remember that tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Frankie winks at them and turns back to see you watching the interaction with an amused smile on your face. His grin gets a little wider and he keeps his eyes on you as he makes his way back to the bar. “Mission success.”

“Did they give you any tips or tell you an embarrassing anecdote?” You fully expect that of the two who are left, especially if Annie was feeling grumpy about not being flirted with.

“Just that I am to provide you with coffee in the morning if I expect human interaction.” He teases with a grin. “Which…same.”

“That…” A laugh escapes you and you shrug before taking a sip of your drink. “Is totally fair, actually. I can’t even get righteous about it.”

“Although maybe I need to be a little righteous.” Frankie picks up his beer and takes a sip of it. “They made it seem like I’m easy.” He huffs, pretending to be offended. “Like it’s guaranteed I’m going home with you tonight.”

“They’re hoping for a little water cooler gossip.” The way your wave it off is meant to be silly and a little dismissive, like of course your work friends just want the dirty details.

He snickers, leaning in again and glancing down at your lips. “Yeah?” He asks. “Does my little musketeer kiss and tell?” He tsks playfully. “Naughty.”

You nearly snort at the nickname, but have to admit that it’s weirdly cute. “Sometimes,” you admit, not missing the way his gaze drops to your lips before raking back up to your eyes. “If the kiss is worth talking about.”

“Hmmmm.” He pretends to take a notebook out of his pocket, miming writing in his palm. “Make kiss worth it.” He murmurs to himself. “Got it.” Looking up he flashes you a smirk. “Where?” He asks, knowing the question will confuse you.

“Where?” Tilting your head slightly, you pick up your drink to take a sip. Despite drinking on and off all day, you’ve had plenty to eat and plenty of nonalcoholic drinks, so it’s the question that’s confusing you and not booze making your brain float.

“Where do I kiss you to make it tellable?” He purrs.

“I thought you were trying to sell me on you not being easy?” The corner of your mouth quirks up in a smirk. Normally cocky isn’t really your thing, but he’s playful about it and you have to appreciate the hell out of that.

“Shit.” He hisses, rolling his eyes at himself. “Failed again.” He takes another sip of his beer and looks over at the table again, grinning when your friends are walking towards the pool table. “Your friends said you like reading. What genre?”

“The Three Musketeers is actually one of my favourites, but…” This question is always an interesting one for you to handle, but for no reason other than throwing caution to the wind, you decide to just tell him the blatant truth and see what his reaction is. “But most of what I read is romance novels, actually.”

“Nora Roberts type books or Anita Blake?” He asks, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “Or maybe a little of everything?”

“A little bit of everything.” He knows who Anita Blake is? Hiding your impressed expression behind another sip of your drink, you actually laugh a little. “Depends on my mood.”

“Completely understandable.” He can see you are curious about how he knows about romance novels, so he decides that he will let you in on a secret. “I grew up with three older sisters.” He tells you easily. “Swiped their romances novels a lot as a teenager to see what they were giggling over.”

That makes sense, and you nod in understanding. “And did you learn anything interesting from your sisters’ books?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs slightly, tucking his tongue in his cheek. “Hopefully so. I think so.” He sends you another wink. “Enough to get myself in trouble.”

“Good trouble, I hope.�� If he’s read smutty novels then he might at least know how to find your clit, and that is another big bonus points.

“Cops have been called; noise complaints filed.” He admits with a grin. “That kind of trouble.”

“Not that a flyboy ever brags, right Aramis?” Noise complaints makes you smirk, knowing that your roommates have been ‘entertaining’ their own dates quite a bit lately and making a fucking racket in your apartment. A little payback might be fun.

“I didn’t know a sleep study was right next door.” He defends himself. “Besides, we weren’t even that loud.”

“A sleep study?” You burst out with a deep belly laugh, not expected that twist to the story at all. “Well shit, I hope they had good dreams after.”

“I tried my best.” He promises with, grinning at your laugh and tossing back the rest of his beer. Your own rum and Coke is looking low but he doesn’t know if you want another. “Want another? Or something else?” He asks, nodding towards your drink.

“Depends.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you deliberately lower your eyes to the gorgeous Cupid’s bow of his bottom lip before raising them again to meet his gaze. It’s not something you do - not often anyway. And it’s definitely early in the conversation to be bringing it up, but he’s…too good to pass up. “It’s cheaper to drink my own booze, if you want to give me something to talk about.”

He takes a minute to process it, checking your eyes to make sure you aren’t more intoxicated than you seem. When he sees that you are relatively sober, he nods. “If you’re sure?” He asks. “I’d love to talk with you.”

“You wanna tell your boys you’re leaving?” Most men probably wouldn’t bothering checking in with their guys, but you want to give him the option because you’ll definitely be sending his name in a text to your coworkers in case he didn’t introduce himself to them. A girl can never be too careful.

“Yeah.” He nods and looks over at the group that are now standing around the tables more than playing. “You can tell your girlfriends you’re leaving.” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure they know your name in case I end up missing, chained to your bed.” He quips. “I’d still be AWOL.”

“If you end up chained to my bed, it won’t be until after I know your safe word and any hard limits.” You tell him with the cool air of someone who actually has restraints on their bed. A four-poster bed and some scarves are the closest you come, but it’s fun to tease.

Frankie laughs, tossing his head back and letting it bark towards the ceiling. “God, we’re gonna have fun.” He predicts gleefully. His hand comes around you, resting on your back. “Come on Madame Dom. Let’s go make sure you’re safe and the assholes don’t look for me later on.”

“Pay your tab, flyboy.” He’s eager, and that makes you grin a little wider. “Or else it will be the bar looking for you and not your friends.” From your pocket, you pull out your phone and wave it slightly. “I’m gonna see if my roommates are home.”

“Shit, that’s right.” Frankie turns around and catches the bartender’s attention with his credit card. He can’t believe he almost forgot about his tab. The commander of the flight school would murder him if he had left a bill at a bar in town.

“All set?” His signature is down on the receipt as soon as the bartender puts it in front of him, and it looks like both of your roommates are out with dates tonight, so your end of things is all good. Thank god for that laundry spree you’d done a few days ago - clean sheets on the bed is something nice to look forward to even when you sleep alone.

“Yeah.” Frankie hands the guy a tip in cash and nods to him. “You want to say goodbye to your friends before we leave?”

“Probably should.” If you slip out without saying something, Annie will go from pouting to worried-little-sister mode in a heartbeat and start blowing up your phone nonstop. Which honestly is not such a bad trait to have in a friend that you occasionally bar hop with.

“I get it.” Frankie tells you. “You can’t be too careful.” His sisters had frequently called him when they went home with someone, baby brother would pick them up, but he was also protective of his sisters.

“Would you mind teaching the other men of the world that? Because they seem to think that our safety is emasculating then somehow.” You roll your eyes but smile, letting it turn into a grin when his friends make a roar of noise at your approach. It seems like this isn’t an all-too-unusual occurrence for your flyboy, but that doesn’t bother you. It’s not like you’re looking for a lifelong commitment here, just a little fun. “I’ll see you guys Monday,” You tell your friends, giving them both hugs. “Get home safe.” With a wink, you add. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Annie smirks, looking over at Frankie with a raised brow. “So, nothing?” She teases, only slightly jealous now that she’s flirting with the tall one like Frankie had predicted.

“Be nice or you won’t get details,” you laugh, giving them both a quick hug before stepping back to rejoin your new friend for the evening.

Frankie had already told the guys he would be back to base sometime, leaving it at that. “So, did you take a cab or drive?” He asks, knowing that he didn’t drive here tonight.

“Our driver got swooped up by her girlfriend an hour ago.” Phone already in hand, you can practically call for an Uber blindfolded with one finger in this town. Having so many bars and so many military men and women meant that on Saturday nights it was always easy to call for a ride. “The ride is only about ten minutes aaaand…it looks like our ride will be here in three.”

“Let’s get some air.” Frankie suggests, cover in hand as he guides you towards the door of the bar. He holds it open for you and as soon as he steps outside, he is placing it on his head, covering the military haircut and checking to make sure the cover is exactly aligned as it should be.

The night has turned cool, providing a little contrast to the scorching hot day and to the over-warmth of the crowded bar from so much body heat. It’s just enough to make you shiver once in your sundress and sigh happily. “Perfect night. Just cool enough to want someone nearby.”

“It is a nice night.” The two of you slowly stroll along the walkway in front of the bar, the noise muted behind its walls, only to blast out when the door swings open. “Although I did just realize something.”

“Oh yeah?” If you thought he was secretly a creep or married or something you never would have invited him to your place, so you doubt there’s about to be some big dramatic reveal, but he has a good sense of humor to go with that handsome face and has been good with pick up lines and such so far, so you just tilt your head at him and lean against the wall of the behind you. “What’s that?”

“Well, I think before you take me home…” He steps closer to you and his hand slowly reaches for your waist. “I think you should let me kiss you. To make sure you think it’s worth it.” He murmurs with a small smile on his lips as he looks into your eyes.

“Well, I think I’m worth going home with,” you tease, but you can feel your breathing shallow out a little at he presses into your space. Lord he really is exceptionally attractive, Aquiline nose and single dimple giving him a unique look that you can’t resist. “But why don’t you make sure you agree with me?”

He chuckles quietly, reaching up to hold your jaw between his thumb and index fingers, changing the angle slightly as he starts to lean in. “That mouth is gonna be trouble.” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours, soft to start before leaning into it more.

Baby, you have no idea. The reply is right on the tip of your tongue, but he steals it away. It’s gone as soon as he spreads his fingers to cradle the line of your jaw in his large palm, replacing all of your senses with just him as you hum into the kiss.

Like anything good, Frankie firmly believes in getting a feel for it. Just like he’s doing as he kisses you. Slowly caressing your lips with his tongue and coaxing it open, allowing him inside. Heat will follow, rushed neediness would be there. For now, he wants to taste you, sampling the rum and Coke from your mouth and groaning when you give him a small whimper.

When you can think again, you’ll be congratulating yourself on what an excellent decision it was to take a chance on this flyboy, because if he’s half as dedicated to fucking you later as he is to kissing you right now, he might actually knock that one night stand from spring break two years ago right out of the top spot in your sexual history book. He tastes like beer and summertime and feels like even more of a wall than the one your back is pressed up against. One arm easily winds its way around his neck, your other hand finding his hip to draw him in closer. Body to body. That’s what you’re craving right now.

Frankie shuffles closer, enjoying the scent of your perfume and the softness of your lips, your body, as he presses you into the wall. Another swipe of his tongue, curling around yours expertly and humming deep in his throat when you moan again. It’s only because he senses a car pull up behind him does he pull away, staring at you as he straightens up. “I think that’s us.” He murmurs, throat slightly raspy with hunger.

“Huh?” There are no thoughts whatsoever in your head for a minute, until you blink heavily and his lips curl into a smirk and you realize you can see him better because a car’s high beams are pointed at you. “Oh. Right.” Nice job, dumb ass. “So am I worth going home with, then?” The tease is right back in place when you shake off the haze and reach for the Uber’s door.

“I knew that the moment you landed in my arms instead of on your ass.” He jokes. “Question is, am I worth taking home?”

“Get in the car, flyboy.” You tell him unequivocally, pulling the door open for both of you. “Or we’re walking.”

He chuckles, very pleased with your sass and throws the driver a grin. “Yes ma’am.” He might have copped a small feel of your ass as you climb into the car, but he was only trying to help you with your sundress.

Not the kind of person to be overly prim, you have no problem staying close to him in the back of the car as it pulls back out onto the main road toward home. The taste of his lingers deliciously, making you want to press your lips together to hold on to the sensation of having his on them. “It’s a quick drive,” you murmur out loud, though you have no idea if you’re telling him or reassuring yourself.

“That’s good.” Frankie shifts towards you, sliding his arm around your shoulders and his other hand settles on your knee. “It’s a good time to tells you how pretty you look.” He murmurs in your ear. Fingers tapping lightly on your skin.

Making out the back of a stranger’s car is bad manners, you remind yourself on repeat when his mouth hangs so near to you that you can almost taste him again. “Pretty enough to eat?” You joke. Well, half-joke.

Frankie knows he’s got you interested. He chuckles against your ear, shifting slightly and drags the hooked end of his nose up your cheek. “It’s a good thing I’m fucking hungry.” He rasps.

“Goddamn.” You could practically melt into this seat, and one of your hands grasps his thigh, nails biting in the material of his pants. “Good.”

His hand slides up, just a few inches. “Yeah?” He hums, making sure that his breath fans over your damp skin. “I can eat your pussy tonight?”

Carefully, your hand creeps higher in his leg to match his advance on you. “Gotta show me what you learned from all those books you snatched.”

His lips brush over the back of your jaw. “Also learned that women like to be seduced right?” His index finger starts drawing a little circle into your skin, working higher on your thigh. “It’s a big part of foreplay. Show them that you want them?”

“Mmhmm.” It’s nearly a whimper, and you nod against him. “Never gonna say no to that.”

“Good.” He slides his fingers up between your thighs, just a bare inch from your covered cunt. “Want to make sure your pussy is dripping when I finally slide inside.”

“Trust me.” When you shift to keep from squirming, your hand on his thigh grips just below the heft of his hardening cock and the side of your hand brushing against it makes you feel like you’re about to see stars despite the fact that he’s barely touched you yet. “That’s not going to be an issue.”

He chuckles again, turning his head when the car starts to slow down. “Are we almost home, beautiful?”

“The next building down.” It’s mostly for the driver, who started pulling up to the wrong apartment complex, but also for the man beside you. The apartment would be spacious for a couple or small family, so for you and your two roommates it’s just right. But you’re prepared to thank every lucky star in the universe that neither of them is home tonight.

Frankie reluctantly pulls away, knowing the two of you will need to get out of the car in order to make it into this apartment of yours. The driver finds the right building and pulls to a stop. He opens the door and steps out, waiting for you to see if you need help. "Thanks for the ride, man."

The car is gone into the night almost as soon as you let yourselves into the front door of the building, and the stairs are blessedly abandoned when you get inside. “It’s just the second floor,” you tell him, motioning to the stairs. “The elevator hasn’t worked in years.”

“That’s no problem.” He shoots you a grin. “There aren’t any elevators in the barracks. Even the officer’s barracks.”

"You boys just get wings on your boots, huh?" You throw him a grin as you head up the stairs in the cramped lobby. "Every bit of sky is yours for the taking."

He chuckles and has to refrain from taking the stairs two at a time. “I mean, yeah.” He huffs. “Nothing like it. Best fucking feeling ever being up there.”

"I think maybe I need to get my ass up in a plane, because I'm pretty sure sex still tops every flight I've ever taken." You meet him on the top step and easily slip your hand into his outstretched one. "Third door on the left, flyboy."

Frankie walks dutifully to the door with your hand in his and stands to the side. Understanding why you let go of his hand, but still pouting slightly as you dig your keys out of your purse. The place is dark when you push inside, and you drop your keys and purse on the side table next to the door as soon as you're through so you can reach for him again. "Home sweet home."

Frankie hums and looks around before he grins at you, wrapping his arms around your body. “Show me your room.”

"This way." There isn't a chance in hell that you're going to move out of his arms. Instead, you go in the complete opposite direction, slipping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your lips to every bit of skin along his neck that you can manage as you tug him toward your bedroom.

Groaning, he remembers to yank his cover off his head and crush it in his hand while he moves with you. Eager to get into that bedroom of yours. It’s been a few weeks since he’s gone home with a girl and he wants to strip you down and make both of you feel incredible.

"Is it some kind of weird treason if all this ends up on my floor?" As soon as the door is shut behind you, you're fumbling blindly for the buttons on his uniform, far too interested into diving into a hungry kiss to actually try to be graceful.

Laughing, he shakes his head and tosses the cover on the floor. “Not at all.” He tells you. “It’s considered patriotic to throw it on the floor.”

"I'm suddenly feeling the most patriotic I've ever been in my life." It feels like his entire uniform is made of buttons though, and your uncoordinated fingers stumble over the obstacles enough times that you pout against his lips. The last thing you want to do is stop kissing him, but you also want to know what he's hiding under all that fabric.

His hands come over yours, stopping you. "Why don't you let me do it?" He asks, smirking at your frustrated grunts and the pout you give him. "That way you can enjoy."

“Fine…” It’s with a deeply dramatic sigh and an immediately playful grin that you relinquish control, letting him take over the pace and exactly what pieces of his uniform will come off when. You kick your sandals off and don’t hesitate to pull your dress over your head, smirking when he is now the one pouting as you back up to climb into your bed.

"Damnit." He hisses, ripping off his blouse and immediately pulling his undershirt off to show off the lean planes of his body. Frankie isn't ripped, God no, but as a twenty-give year old Army officer, he is in pretty fucking decent shape. The shadows of abs was enough for him, he wasn't going to starve or dehydrate himself to fucking achieve that look. Besides, from the hungry look on your face, you don't mind at all.

He's fucking beautiful. Like mouthwateringly perfect, as far as your taste in men. He's broad and strong and his massive hands could probably wrap around your throat or your thighs with equal ease. If you weren't already laying back in a pile of your own pillows with your fingers mere inches from your soaking wet panties, you would already be on your knees in front of him. But the view from where you are is your own personal striptease and you are doing your goddamn best to memorize every detail for masturbation fuel in the future.

"Touch yourself." Frankie orders, voice rough as he starts to unbuckle his belt. He smirks at your surprised expression, and he nods towards your cunt. "You want to touch yourself, do it." He orders again. "Right here. Shove your hands into your panties and touch your swollen little clit for me."

"Fuck." That wasn't at all the response you expected to get from him and your hand dives into your panties faster than you can think and the way you moan at that first touch of your own fingers to your clit makes his eyes go impossibly darker with want.

"Goddamn baby." He hisses, quickly unhooking and unzipping the starched dress pants and dropping them down, kicking them and his shoes off at the same time and leaving him in the black socks and stark white boxers that do nothing to hide the erection that is currently tenting the material. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He coos, eyes fixated on your cloth covered core.

"Gonna be better when it's you." It doesn't take much to shift on the bed, dragging your panties aside with the hand that isn't knuckle deep in your own wet pussy. "Take it all off and get the fuck over here, flyboy. Wanna touch you."

He chuckles and smirks down at you, hooking his thumbs under his boxers. "Yes ma'am." He teases, pushing them down and stripping them off before he stands tall again and lets you get a good look at him fully nude.

"Goddamn, baby." Giving his own words right back to him, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and groan as your eyes rake up and down the length of his body. You're squirming in place, hips rocking on your own fingers, while you take in the sight of his thick cock already beaded with precum just begging to split you open.

Winking cockily, Frankie knows that you are eager. Kneeling on the bed and wrapping his fingers around your ankle to tug it slightly closer. Pulling you towards him as he crawls up to join you. “Like something you see, pretty girl?”

"Have a feeling I'm gonna fuckin love something I see." Fuckin love or love fucking - both are entirely true. He brings you closer, making it easier for you to lean in and nip at his bottom lip. "Gonna let me ride that cock after you eat my pussy?"

His lips chase yours for another kiss while his cock bounces against your inner thigh. "After your legs are up on my shoulders and I make you cum all over my cock." He promises, nipping back at your lip playfully, loving the fact that you like to use your teeth.

"So many big plans." Pouring a groan into his mouth, you let the kiss turn hungry for a long moment. It's a gorgeous distraction for just as long as it takes to drag your fingers out of your own slick and wrap them around his length.

Grunting into your mouth, he twitches under your touch, enjoying the firm grip you have around him. His own hands reaching for your panties, tearing them in his eagerness to get to your cunt. The ripping of the fabric making him grunt again.

The feeling of that fabric ripping against your skin - the sound of it, too - makes you absolutely whimper into his needy kiss. “Fucking hell, baby. Touch me. Please.” You beg, blindly searching for his hands to push at least one of them towards where you need him most.

The next chuckle is dirty, bordering slightly mocking as he starts to kiss down your jaw and nips your pulse sharp enough to make you gasp. His fingers don't give in, instead he spreads them, cupping your bare cunt and covering it with his palm. "Is someone needy?" He coos, teasing you with a little lick at the hollow of your throat before biting your collar bone and moving down another few inches.

“I’ll wrap my fingers around your cock again and we’ll both be needy,” you shoot back, laughing despite how badly your body is singing with desire.

"Baby, I'm gonna be needy until I'm balls deep inside this tight, hot little pussy." He murmurs, smirking up at you before kitten lick the tip of one breast before he wraps his lips around it.

The way you keen is messy and needy in all the best ways, and your head falls back on the pillow behind you. The only nuisance is that he doesn’t have any hair to speak of for you to run your fingers through or grab onto, leaving you to rake your fingernails against the base of his skull encouragingly as you moan for him. He loves the way your nipple responds. Tightening under his tongue as he drags it over it. Scraping his teeth across the firm peak and sucking it back in his mouth to tease it some more. Groaning around it before he pulls off with a wet pop and switches over to the other.

If somebody were at home besides the two of you, they would already be pounding on the door in annoyance at how vocal the two of you are together. Every sound that comes out of him is heavenly sin - egging you on and encouraging you to meet his enthusiasm. Not that you need the help, already panting and moaning under him as though you'd been starved of intimacy for years.

Frankie nudges at your breast, pushing at it as he sucks, enjoying the way you whimper and scratch at his head. Trying to pull him closer and push him down to where you need him all at the same time. He loves a woman who’s responsive, who’s nearly feral for his touch.

He keeps at your tits until you’re nearly growling, and the low chuckle he gives before starting to trail his mouth southward again has you on the edge of sanity. He practically has you about to cum just sucking on your tits, you might melt into the bed once he finally sets that tongue to work on your cunt.

His tongue dips into your navel, showing you exactly what his plan for your aching little hole is. He flicks his tongue deep and laves around his generously, lips twisted upward when your legs lift and your heels dig into his shoulder blades.

“Go ahead and gloat, flyboy.” You’ve always been the kind of person to have a sense of humor about sex, and especially when it’s something like this. He has every right to feel good about how worked up he’s gotten you, and he’s clearly enjoying the affect he has on you. That’s all a part of pleasure, in your opinion.

He chuckles and bites at the swell of belly over your mound, scraping his still smooth cheeks against it before he slides down again. "Not gloating." He hums, winking at you. "Just enjoying myself." He turns his head and kisses one thigh and then turns his head the opposite direction to kiss the other. "I like a woman who's playful and needy in bed." He confesses before he flattens his tongue and makes the first pass over your clit.

“Fuck!” He takes you by surprise, and your head nearly hits the headboard when it drops back, making you giggle. When that giggle turns into another moan, your fingernails find his scalp again with ease. “H—hopefully loud, too. Shit, baby.”

He just is moaning into your cunt in answer, burrowing his tongue deeper as his vocalizations resonate into your skin. He loves how loud you are, wants you to be louder for him. To give him everything you've got and fall apart. His hands spread your thighs wider, letting him reach more of you with unabashed enthusiasm.

Every word out of your mouth is the highest praise, every sound is pure sin that spurs him on in his quest to bring you the most pleasure he possibly can. His tongue is just as good - maybe even better - on your weeping cunt as it was weaving sinful promises in your ear earlier and the Army needs to invent a medal for pussy eating right away.

You taste incredible. Tangy and musky, making. him lick and suck on your folds, nibble on the lip of your cunt and groan when he plunges his tongue into your velvety softness and lets it slide through the fresh slick leaking from you. Pushing your hips back, lifting your legs up off his back so he delves deeper and spear his tongue upside you to curl up.

That tingling sensation that rolls through your entire body, sparking nerves out to the very tips of your fingers and toes and taking any possible sense of restraint you had with it. The rambling, cursing, barely coherent warning you manage to eek out before you cum the first time is punctuated by a cry of his name - the first time you’ve actually used it all night – but he has absolutely earned the plaintive wail of “Fuck, Frankie!” When you fall apart for him.

Hearing you, feeling you start to cum just makes Frankie double down. His tongue flicking and his jaw aching but he continues to eat you like a starved man. Groaning into you while his hips shift subtly against the bed, grinding against it for friction while his mouth is flooded with your essence.

If it was destined to be a one-orgasm night, it would still be a really fucking excellent night. Fortunately for both of you it absolutely won't be - but the boneless way you fall back into your pillows again after having arched off the bed speaks to exactly how hard you just came for him. "Jesus fuckin Christ." An indulgent, filthy giggle bubbles up out of you when he doesn't let up right away. "You're gonna kill me, baby."

He chuckles, pulling away and giving your clit a few slow, lazy licks as he watches you recover. You’re gorgeous this way and he admires the way your tits rise and fall. Slapping the outside of your thigh, he raises a brow. “Want another before I fuck you?” He offers.

It's such a loaded question, because you desperately want to cum as many times as he'll let you, but you aren't the only person in this bed right now. "Still want to ride you, gorgeous. If I cum that hard again on your tongue, I might not be able to make my legs work afterward."

Frankie grunts a small gawf and nods, lifting up to his knees and sliding off the bed. “Let me get a condom out of my wallet, then.” He wanted to keep you safe as well as himself, grabbing the pants off the floor and fishing his wallet out. The shiny foil packet in hand, he gives you a triumphant grin.

"Love a man that shows up prepared." You grin at him, crooking one finger to beckon him back into your bed. Of course you have condoms stashed in your nightstand but it's nice to see someone else stepping up to the plate of responsibility.

“Boy Scout.” He quips and climbs back into the bed with you. “Now….” He puts the edge of the foil packet in his teeth and rips it open. “I think I promised you an orgasm with your legs up on my shoulders while you cum all over my cock.”

"Shoulders like those were made to be leg rests," you tell him with a grin, managing to steal a kiss after he's tossed the foil packet in the general direction of your trash can.

Frankie bites his lip, rolling the rubber down his length and pumping himself a few times before he caresses your legs. Pulling them up onto his shoulder and shuffling forward to slide the head of his cock through your folds. “Ready?”

"Shit yes." If it would do you any good to grasp at him or push closer, you would. But from this angle and with one of his big hands grasping your legs, all you can really do is squirm. "Come on, baby. Fill me up."

He teases your clit for another pass before he lined up, the head of his cock pushing against the soft entrance to your body and keeps his eyes on you while he slowly sinks in.

If you hadn’t been dripping wet from the second he kissed you, it definitely would been a pinch to take all of him, being as thick as he is. Now, though, Frankie is fully seated to the hilt in your hot cunt with almost nothing more than a lazy roll of his hips, making you whimper and moan under him happily as he shifts into the exact position he wants.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your legs gently, almost tenderly as he waits for your body to relax. Letting him lean down and fold your legs over as he stretches his jaw and manages to plant a tiny kiss on your lips. His dog tags hang around his neck, dangling between you. “Want to hear you.” He reminds you softly, before he abruptly pulls his hips back and slams back into your cunt.

Volume isn’t exactly a problem, but the way he pushes the breath out of your lungs on that second powerful thrust means it’s a strangled moan that pours from your lips instead of more teasing words. One of your hands grasps for his hip when he plows into you again and the other paws at your own tits, twisting your nipple with the perfect to almost be painful alongside the pleasure.

The steady, hard thwacks of his hips against your thighs fills the room, along with the gasps and groans from the two of you. You are fucking tight like this, squeezing his cock before your walls ever clench in pleasure. “F-f-fuuuuck.” He hisses, each syllable accompanying another swing of his hips.

“God — fuck — feel so good, baby.” If he wants to hear you, you’ll damn well make sure that what he’s hearing is complimentary and true. “So fucking deep, oh my god —”

“Yeah?” He pants out, keeping up the brutal pace and making sure that each thrust bottoms out. One hand reaches your and squeezes your tit. “Want more?”

“Every — oh fuck—” A particularly punishing thrust shoves you further up you bed and you have to reach up to keep from knocking your head against the headboard of your bed. “Everything you got, flyboy.”

Frankie flashes you a grin, wicked and promising. “Roger.” If you had thought he was giving you his all, you were sorely mistaken. His dog tags swing wildly and beat against his chest while he ramps up his pace.

If you had thought about anything besides how fucking good his cock feels shredding up inside you for just half a second, you would have realized that you were issuing an accidental challenge. Now you can’t do anything but hang on for the ride, so to speak, and throw both hands over your head to avoid banging your head, and give him every ounce of vocal encouragement that he is definitely earning.

He absorbs your sounds, greedy for each one. Even stretching down to kiss you again. Steadily pounding into you before he slides his hand down to thumb at your clit.

You might shake apart with the force of the orgasm you can feel building, but you will happily give in to it. The wave that crashes through you has you practically squealing, with his name as the only word to be understood in all the praises and rambling as you fall apart underneath him.

Frankie doesn’t fuck you through it. Instead he lets your legs slide down into the crooks of his elbows so he can hover closer. Breath mingling with yours while he slowly grinds himself into your grasping and fluttering little hole. “Good girl.” He coos. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.”

“So good.” With him this close you can grasp his dog tags like a collar and meet him halfway for a messy, enthusiastic kiss. “Can’t wait to hear how gorgeous you scream my name when you cum.”

His chuckle is low and raspy, making him stop moving and focus on kissing you, still buried in your cunt.

It’s tricky to do when he’s completely overwhelming your senses, but you rock your hips with his and tighten your legs at his sides to roll him into his back with a victorious grin. “Your turn to enjoy,” you promise him, nipping at his lips while you roll figure 8s on his lap with his cock deep inside you at a whole new angle.

“God.” He doesn’t know what to grab. Your hips, your tits, his hands are everywhere. Pinching your nipples and cupping the soft flesh, while watching, alternating between your tits, your face, and the tiny space where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

“That’s it, baby.” You hum, tossing your head back to let your tits stand out as you start to rise and fall on his length. “Feels so fucking big like this.”

His feet dig into the downy comfort of your bed, bracing them so that his can jerk his hips up. Driving up into you from the bottom and push deeper when you sit back down on his cock. "You like it." He huffs, pushing your tits together and flicking the peaked tips.

“Fucking love it.” There’s no way you’re about to deny that, especially not with the perfect way he’s got his hands on you right now. Every time you bounce on his cock his hands squeeze your tits a little tighter, and each tweak of your aching nipples is fantastic.

"Good." He huffs, biting his lip and trying to control his body as it reacts to the drag of your cunt in this position. Despite you cumming already, he wants you to cum again. Needs to see it before he gives in to his own need. "Look so good riding my cock." He pants out. "So fucking good."

Each time he bottoms out inside you, you swirl your hips in his lap, rocking downward to give you more momentum to bounce up again, and the combination has both of you moaning and panting unashamedly. You can’t remember the last time it felt this good to have someone inside you, and to be honest you might be a little bummed in the morning when he takes off never to be seen again. But at least tonight is fucking amazing.

"Fuck." He slaps your tit lightly and lets go, gripping your hips and rocking up into you again. Watching your heavy-lidded eyes as they flutter and your own hands drift over your skin. You look fucking amazing on top of him, he wasn't lying about that. "Come on baby, cum again." He coos. "You know you want to."

“Want me to — oh god, squeeze that thick cock, baby?” That’s all the encouragement you need for your hand to drift down to your cunt, fingertips rubbing tight circles on your clit that make you cry out into the dark night.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, gritting his teeth when you start to squeeze him. Both hands on your hips while you freeze over him, body locked up in pleasure and he thrusts up into you wildly now. “Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He growls, staring at you while his own orgasm starts to build up. “Fuck, gonna cum.”

“Fuck yes, cum for me.” He’s going to look spectacular as he falls apart, you just know it, and the hand that isn’t rapidly stroking your swollen clit reaches down to rake your blunted fingernails down his chest.

Frankie shudders, shouting out and starts to cum. Gripping your hips in a bruising hold, he surges up into you one last time. Gasping and moaning your name while he spills into the condom.

“Fuck, Frankie!” The combination of sensations is too good, and another orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Shaking with it, your cunt clenches down in his length even harder, milking every last drop of cum from him until you feel like you’re about to black out from the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god. So good.” You whine, panting for breath as the aftershocks finally start to subside.

Frankie grunts, pulling you down against his chest while he slowly grinds up into you. Finally just throbbing inside you as he strokes your back. “Holy shit.” He pants, feeling euphoric and exhausted.

“Right?” You can’t help giggling, the ethereal feeling swimming in your body making you feel light as air as you reach to kiss him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling when you kiss his jaw and hum. “Aren’t you glad I caught you?” He teases playfully.

“Goddamn right I am.” You agree without hesitation and rest your head on his chest. “This was the perfect way to thank you for it.”

He can’t disagree with you. He lifts his head slightly, kissing the top of yours.

“You…do you…wanna stay?” Heavy sleepiness is quickly setting into your body, but you’ll fight to stay awake long enough to drive him back to wherever if that’s what he wants. You would just as soon wake up beside him in the morning and maybe go one more round before having to say goodbye to him.

“Yeah.” Frankie has zero desire to return to his room at the barracks. It didn’t matter that officer’s didn’t have to share; it was still a barracks room. He kisses your head again. “But I got get rid of this condom first.” He murmurs. “You got a trash can in here, or bathroom?”

“Next to the bed.” You vaguely point to your right - his left - where your nightstand is and sigh quietly, happy that the little bubble of perfection you found tonight won’t be bursting too soon.

He smirks when you refuse to peel yourself off of him for a few more moments. Finally huffing and lifting off his cock while he holds the base of the condom so he can roll over and take it off. He huffs, always hating this part of condoms, tying it off and taking one step to put it in the trash before he climbs back in the bed. “Now you can lay back on me.” He promises, dragging you closer again.

“You’re comfy.” And you aren’t the least bit ashamed to acknowledge that, cuddling up to his chest again like a clingy cat after he shuts off the light.

“Hmmm, good.” He doesn’t even deny that he likes the warmth of you on him. His hand strokes your back slowly as you settle and sighs softly. “‘Night, beautiful.”

“G’night, sexy.” The smile on your lips will last until morning without fail, and hopefully your dreams will just be a replay of what you did in this bed before passing out.

******

Being in the military means that no matter how much he drinks, how tired he is, come zero six hundred - he’s awake. He’s actually been awake for half an hour, watching you sleep, curled into his side. You have this cute little pout and he figures you will be mortified when you learn you drooled on him. Except now, he’s gotta pee and he’s about to die of thirst. Slowly shifting, he carefully moves you so that you don’t wake up, allowing him to slide out of the bed.

There’s movement in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and cinnamon wafting through the apartment, and quiet chatting that pauses temporarily when a door creaks open and shut. “You’re up early!” A voice calls out, with clear teasing lining the comment. “Figured you’d sleep in after the porno you lived last night.”

He’s glad that he swiped his boxers up and put them on. He hadn’t expected to run into your roommates this early, but he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. Shit like this happens every once in a while. Instead of hiding or slipping into the bathroom and going back to your room, Frankie walks into the kitchen. “She’s still asleep.”

“Oh!” The petite blonde clutching her coffee cup bursts out into an embarrassed giggle and so does the redhead with her. Their jaws are practically on the ground, though, and they give each other an impressed glance. “Uh…hi! Coffee?”

“I’d kill for some.” Frankie flashes them a grateful smile, not at all embarrassed to be standing in front of them with nothing but his boxers and his dog tags on. He had routinely showered with thirty other men and shit in stalls with no doors in OCS, this was a piece of cake. “And a cup for her?” He asks, stepping further into the kitchen. “I don’t know how she drinks it.”

“Black.” The red headed girl grabs two mugs from the cupboard and hands them off to the blonde to be filled. “So…you guys sounded like you had fun…” The two girls exchange smirks that are meant to cover looks of concern.

“She’s still alive.” He promises, smirking slightly as he watches the blonde pour the coffee. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’ll call you an Uber if it was just a one-night thing for you.” The blonde tells him matter-of-factly, as she sets two full coffee mugs down on the kitchen island. “She’s just…she’s been on the receiving end of a lot of bullshit lately, so if you’re not into her it’s easier if you just go.” The protective, sister-like energy is strong with these two, and it’s obvious they’re not trying to be rude. They just care about you.

If he’s irritated by the nosiness of the roommate, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he picks up a cup of coffee, the smaller one, and takes a sip. “Would be a shitty thing to do.” He comments are that first sip. “To just slink off. I’m not that kind of man.”

“Good.” That seems to mollify her, and she nods. “In that case the bathroom’s the next door on the right and there are cinnamon rolls about to come out of the oven.”

He grins and sends her a small wink, setting down the coffee. “Happy I passed the test.” He tells her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll use the bathroom and then bring her that coffee.”

The second he’s gone, your roommates look at each other with what can only be described as awe, and stifle some shared laughter. “Oh my god she wasn’t kidding…he’s…gorgeous.”

Frankie uses the bathroom, washes his hands and comes back out to go back into the kitchen. The giggling stops again, and he just picks up the coffee mugs and throws them both a knowing smirk. “I would probably play some music or something.” He warns them with a wink before he trots back down the hallway.

“We’re leaving for work!” They call back, and he can hear the sound of a metal tray clanging on its way out of the oven as your bedroom door shuts behind him.

Frankie chuckles, seeing you starfished across the bed and he sets down the coffee cups on the dresser. It wasn’t something that the two of you had talked about, so he decides that waking you up with oral isn’t a good idea. Instead, he crawls back in the bed and manages to nudge you over so he can stretch out beside you.

“Mmmm…” From the edges of your fading dream, you can feel a hand stroke your back and you sigh right before your eyes open. “Morning…”

“Morning.” Frankie hums, keeping his hands solely on your back instead of drifting to other, more interesting places. “I have coffee for you.”

“Sexy and thoughtful.” You snuggle closer to him for a second before your eyes pop open in dismay. “My roommates came home last night, didn’t they?”

“Sorry.” Frankie winces, hearing your unhappy tone. Maybe you didn’t want them to know? Even if you had called from the bar. “I can get a ride and take off.”

“God, were they that bad?” Fully awake now, you tuck a blanket around your body and look up his frown with concern. “They just tend to get a little…protective. I was going to apologize if they said something rude when I wasn’t there to tell them to knock it off.” Of course, they were only that way because of the shitty luck you had had with guys you brought home, and you so very much don’t want Frankie to end up as just one more of those guys.

“No, they were fine.” He promises. “I just figured you weren’t too happy they knew you brought someone home.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” You shake your head adamantly. “I’m glad you’re here and I don’t give a fuck who knows it. The reason I asked them to give us privacy last night was so I could be as loud as I wanted without them giving me shit about keeping them up. Because they both work this morning. That’s all.”

“They said they’re leaving for work.” He hums, mollified that you don’t want him to leave. He leans in and drags his nose across your cheek. “So, we’ll be alone again.”

“Coffee can wait.” The decision comes with a deep hum, and you easily wrap your arm around his waist to drag him under the covers with you.

“Thought about waking you up with my tongue.” He confesses, kissing along your jaw. “But I didn’t know how you would react to that.”

“Next time.” He nudges you over onto your back and you nearly purr at the early morning affection. The offer is really just a hopeful one. Hopeful that this morning won’t be the least you see of him. “Next time, you definitely should.”

“Yeah?” He nibbles on your collar bone and hums happily. “I can do that.” He slides his hand down to slot between your thighs. “Could always pretend you are asleep right now.”

You grin, giggling a little as you immediately shut your eyes and slump back in your pillows dramatically. “Who’s pretending? I’m totally still asleep,” you tease.

“Good girl.” Frankie grins and ducks his head under the covers, moving his way quickly down your body and gently pries your legs apart like he’s trying not to wake you.

Two of your favorite words, but you don’t say a thing as he shifts you into the position he wants. Being woken up like this is one of those things that you never have asked for or suggested, especially because you have a track record of picking guys that don’t stick around for long.

“Fuck.” He groans quietly at the sight of your swollen and puffy lips, slick from the nights activities and fresh arousal coat your skin and he hums. “Someone’s have naughty dreams.” He teases quietly, bumping your clit with his nose before he kitten licks it softly.

You can’t help humming a little, letting the sound be something like a non-communal sleeping sound as best as you can. You had had very naughty dreams about all the things you wanted him to do to you - or you to him - and you’re already about to check one off the list. What’s not to love? He chuckles, kissing your lips and starts to softly press the flat of his tongue against your folds. Gently treating your cunt like it is the most delicate treat, completely opposite from his treatment of you last night.

A soft, indulgent sigh parts your lips and you swear you melt a little deeper into the mattress with pure relaxation. He's as gentle as a spring sunrise this morning and when you shift underneath him it's akin to the stretching of a lazy cat instead of the frantic, needy squirming of last night. His tongue flutters and softly flicks over your swollen folds, groaning slightly and urging your thighs open a little more. Still pleased with how well you are playing at being asleep as he gathers your clit in his mouth to suck softly.

Not wanting to ruin the game, you swallow a whimper and keep your eyes shut tight. As much as you want to hear him growl his approval at your fingernails on his scalp again, letting him enjoy and explore so gently is its own kind of beautiful.

This is everything that last night wasn’t and yet it doesn’t feel any less or more. It just feels like another layer of this time with you. The contrasts match so beautifully. He moans quietly, sliding his shoulder to the side so he can ease two fingers into you.

There's no way to mask this moan, or the way your hips lift off the bed ever so slightly to go along with the motion of his hands. If you weren't awake before you most certainly would be now, and the feeling of Frankie's thick fingers stretching you out so lazily is amazing.

He hums, pleased at your reaction and he pulls his lips away from your clit with a soft pop. “‘Morning.” He teases before he resumes his ministrations.

"Good--" As soon as he dives back in, the phrase is broken by a plaintive sigh. "Fuck, morning, baby." As frantic, needy, and desperate as the two of you were last night, this morning is nothing but lazy and indulgent and it is absolutely glorious.

He chuckles and curls his fingers up slowly, deliberately. “Want you to cum for me, again.” He murmurs, tracing his name into your cunt with his tongue.

"Yes – fuck – yes, sir." He's like an expert musician, plucking the strings of your pleasure to absolute perfection without really even needing to practice.

Frankie gets call ‘sir’. Due to his rank, he gets called sir at least a hundred times a day. But the way you say it has him moaning, his fingers sharpening their curl just a bit and the hand on your hip gets tighter, like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby — gonna cum!” For as gentle as he has been, it’s still like a freight train. Rolling through every inch of your body with the same power that last night’s demanding pace had, except this time it almost makes you float. It’s like Frankie’s fingers and tongue are keeping you afloat in his very own ocean of pleasure and why in the hell would you ever want to be anywhere else.

He growls in pleasure. Happy that you are nearly bowing up off the bed in pleasure and he slowly works you through it. Wringing your body if every ounce of pleasure it can gleam from his tongue. “Fucking hell, Frankie,” you pant, grasping at breaths as he slowly lets you down again off the cloud-like pillow of bliss.

Chuckling, he kisses your clit one last time and crawls back up the bed to lay down beside you, throwing a leg over yours. “Good?”

“Good?” The incredulity in your voice is marked by a throaty laugh. “Yeah, flyboy. Extremely good.”

“Well, the old motto of the Army is ‘Be All That You Can Be’.” He jokes

“You’re doing amazing, baby.” You promise him with a chuckle. “When…um, when do you have to be back?” It’s a Sunday and you know fuck all about what an average day in the military is like, but all you really want to know is how much longer you’ll get to savor having him right here beside you.

“Flight training at zero five thirty on Monday. So, I can’t drink tonight.” He explains, thinking you might want to go back to the bar.

“That’s fine.” Tipping your head back so your chin rests on his chest, you crack a smile that warms through your whole body despite being nervous at the question. “Does that mean you might want to hang out today?” He could easily have told you he had plans or obligations, but he didn’t, and you can feel the hope swell in your chest.

He pauses for a moment before a slow smile slides across his face. “I think that would be fun.” He tells you, sliding his hands up and down your back. “Your roommates said there were cinnamon rolls, but we could always go get breakfast, swing by base and grab a set of civvies for me.”

“What are your feelings on shared showers?” The sparkle in his gorgeous brown eyes reads as delight and you can feel a rabble of butterflies erupt in your belly. “There’s a new diner on Main Street that I’ve been dying to try. My treat.”

He huffs and pokes his lip out at you. “Now my momma would beat me if I let a lady pay the morning after.” He tells you with a grin.

"You're gonna let me pay for something eventually." You tell him in a tone that brokers no protests, but the sunny grin on your face says it's not a serious matter in the least and you lean in just barely to kiss the pout off his perfect lips. "Is that a yes?"

“Maybe.” He concedes, with his own grin on his lips. “Why don’t we try to share that shower and then we will see where today takes us.” He offers, feeling like he is asking something more serious than just a day after a one-night stand.

Sitting up beside him in your own bed, with your sheets disheveled and his gorgeous face looking up at you from a pile of pillows, you reach out to brush your thumb along his jaw and smile harder than you possibly ever have in your life. "Wherever that is? I hope it's someplace worth talking about."

Frankie smirks, sending you a playful wink. “You’re with a flyboy.” He quips. “Of course, wherever it is will be cloud nine.”

______

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